AN AMERICAN KEW. 253 



the long-expected fish. Often have I watched them, but the fish never 

 came. Probably, as Hood conjectured, " it was caught yesterday." 



The river-side walk now continues along the Richmond side of the 

 river. For half a niile, it has the town on the right. Then the 

 boundaries of Kew Gardens begin, and here is the most beautiful part 

 of the walk. Immense trees stretch their ponderous boughs far across 

 the path, and they droop so low that the pendent foliage almost sweeps 

 the water. Through the fretted sun and shadow the path winds ; every 

 little way there is a hospitable bench, resting on which you gaze forth 

 upon the quiet-moving river, with its passing wherries, its reflections of 

 sky and cloud, and its battlemented residences far withdrawn beyond 

 green meadows on the opposite side. The path is never overcrowded, 

 even on holidays ; but you may always see lovers wandering arm in 

 arm along it ; and occasionally there is a brisk exchange of " Thames 

 chaff" between the occupants of the skimming boats and the loiterers 

 on the shore. Meanwhile, the great domain of Kew keeps pace with 

 you on the other hand. You are divided from it by a wide water- 

 ditch, backed by a high stone embankment, in turn surmounted by an 

 iron railing. But your eyes may stray whither feet cannot follow ; and 

 you note the iovely groves, the beautiful green glades and gracious 

 vistas, the secluded paths weaving in and out, and now and then 

 yoii catch the sparkle of lofty domes of glass rising above the trees, 

 looking for all the world like gigantic soap-bubbles. It is a sort of 

 fairy-land beyond there ; and long before you arrive at the entrance 

 your appetite for what lies within is sharp-set. 



The feast in store for you more than fulfils expectation ; but at this 

 point, since we are journeying in imagination only, and miles count for 

 nothing, w r e will turn back, and enter the gardens from the other end. 

 By this route we approach its beauties gradually and in due order, and 

 our pleasure has opportunity to grow from promising beginnings to 

 complete content. The gate is small here, and the uniformed guardian 

 simply gives us a glance, to assure himself that we are not toughs or 

 pickpockets. Kew Gardens are free to the public in the afternoons, 

 barring only the rowdy element. The public would like to have them 

 free in the mornings, too ; and, for aught I know, Sir Joseph Hooker 

 may have yielded his assent by this time. But in the seventies, when 

 I was there, he resisted on the ground that it was necessary to close the 

 gardens for half the day, in order to allow time for study, and for 

 keeping the houses and plantations in order. The grounds are con- 

 stantly visited by gardeners and botanists from all parts of the country, 

 and from the world at large ; and these persons require some measure 

 of seclusion in order to prosecute their labors and investigations. 

 Practical botany is not, as a rule, pursued at night ; though, with the 

 aid of electric lights, no doubt it might be. 



However, we have by this time passed through some introductory 

 shrubbery, and have emerged into a straight, open avenue, a third 

 of a mile or more in length. Directly before us is an immensely high 

 tower, — I should think nearly two hundred feet, — painted red, black, 

 blue, and yellow, and fashioned to resemble a Chinese minaret or pagoda. 

 The central shaft is circular, and, I believe, of masonry ; but it is sur- 



