THE GROVE, HIGHGATE 



familiar dome or spire will detach itself, and as one gazes, there 

 are various signs significant of life. Yonder thin column of smoke 

 against the warm sky, rises straight up in the windless air from the 

 slender shaft of a factory chimney while nearer the horizon, a 

 white moving streak follows the track of a railway, and the scream 

 of a locomotive is faintly heard all telling of the near neighbour- 

 hood of working, enjoying, spending, suffering man. 



In Coleridge's day, the outlook was wider, for there were far 

 fewer buildings to obstruct it, and the cloud of smoke that except 

 on such clear days as that just described, often hides the prospect 

 now was then comparatively light. The denizen of London 

 nowadays, must choose his hour to see it but it is well worth while 

 to do so ; and my Highgate drawing will for ever be associated 

 in my mind with that glimpse of glorified London so often vouch- 

 safed to me on my homeward way. There was no monotony ; 

 sometimes rolling cumulus clouds ahead (piled snow-white on 

 each other) caught and reflected the glow from the sunset ; or if 

 fleecy cirri were about, they too caught it, and dyed the heavens 

 to the zenith with rippling waves of rose-red. But always the 

 glory was short-lived the shadows crept up higher and descended 

 the spell of enchantment holding me on the hill-top, was broken, 

 and everything was grey, and cold, and matter-of-fact, when at 

 length I reached the neighbourhood of the '* Archway," with its 

 mundane noise and bustle, and entered the nether regions of the 

 Hampstead and Highgate tube station. 



The general features of the Grove the name given to a row of 

 large, comfortable-looking and dignified houses early Georgian 

 or older standing in an old world corner of Highgate a little off 

 the main road from London remain much as they were in the 

 days when Dr. James Gillman resided at No. 3 had a large and 

 lucrative practice, and had attracted some attention among his 

 professional brethren by the publication of a pamphlet on hydro- 

 phobia. They speak now, as they did then, of the refinement and 

 taste of well-to-do inhabitants. 



They were built when large cellar- kitchens were universal, 

 and when hot and cold water laid on, were unheard-of luxuries. 

 No doubt, added to the charm of a romantic situation, they have 

 now domestic conveniences of which our forefathers knew nothing. 

 They face east and west, and the old-fashioned, green-shuttered 



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