Bayswater — Residence of Mrs. Loudon. 83 



It was quite dark before we left the grounds, and after 

 passing a pleasant evening with Mr. Godfrey, to whom we were 

 so much indebted for our day's ride, and to whom we again 

 return our warmest thanks, we took the train of cars, at the 

 Slough station, and arrived in London about half past nine 

 o'clock. 



Bayswater, Residence of Mrs. Lov.don. — It would scarcely 

 be expected that we should leave London without giving 

 some account of Bayswater, the residence of the late Mr. 

 Loudon. Some years previous to his death, he stated that it 

 was his desire to visit this country, and we had confidently 

 hoped, in common with many of his friends, that he would 

 have been able to gratify his wish ; but from subsequent lan- 

 guage, incidentally used, in an article in the Gardener^ s Mag- 

 azine, the " subject of slave population filled his mind with 

 horror, and diminished, in a considerable degree, the ardent 

 desire he once had to visit the United States." So great an 

 admirer of one who had done so much for gardening, in this 

 country, as well as in Europe, we still anticipated the pleas- 

 ure of seeing him at some future day. Deeply regretted by 

 all, however, he fell a victim to his own incessant and her- 

 culean labors, but a short time previous to our visit. 



In company with Mr. Charlwood, who was an intimate 

 friend of Mr. Loudon, we called on Mrs. Loudon, but she 

 was absent from home, and we had not the pleasure of an 

 acquaintance. Another opportunity did not again offer to 

 renew our visit. Fearing this, we took a brief survey of the 

 library, filled to overflowing with most of the works on hor- 

 ticulture, botany, &c., of the present century. Allowing the 

 imagination a little sway, it became the same busy scene, — 

 the same literary workshop, — of a few months before. At 

 one table sat an amanuensis, at a second another, and at a 

 third a draftsman. To and fro, in busy thought, walked a 

 crippled man, now dictating to one, now to the other, and 

 anon giving directions to the third. Daily, weekly, yearly, 

 the same unceasing toil went on ; until, worn by care, and 

 wasted in health, the master hand sunk beneath the comple- 

 tion of a work, which few would have had the courage to 

 have undertaken, and fewer to carry out. 



The garden was a source of interest; it had been the scene 



