3o8 
PARK AND CE/AETERY. 
VIEW NO. I. 
VIEW NO. 2. 
open lawn with the bright design, emblematic 
of rest, all go to make a handsome and impressive 
picture. 
On entering the gate I stopped at the office to 
ask permission to carry my camera with me, and 
to take such views as I might desire; my request 
was granted. Delighted to have this permission I 
hurried on. My knowledge of the limited stock of 
films on hand, caused me to study carefully each 
picture before taking a “snap” and many that I de- 
sired were passed by. 
Of the several views taken, each showed care 
and forethought of the artist in planting and ar- 
ranging, and deserve to be reproduced for the ben- 
efit of those who have not had the pleasure of view- 
ing the original. 
Being a great admirer of water and landscape, 
I send my choice picture No. 2, a beautiful piece of 
thing to the beauty of this stolen view. 
I need only remark that one who is cap- 
able of taking the rough and undevelop- 
ed piece of landscape and embellish it in 
the way this has been done, is as much 
an artist as the painter or sculptor, for 
here nature’s products are arranged into 
a living picture for all to admire, with 
nature’s mirror to double and intensify 
the beauty of the scene. Sid. J. Hare.. 
,¥ 
The custom of wearing button-hole bouquets is 
so well established on the other side of the At- 
iantic, that according to The Qiieen'. So seriously 
has the city of London taken the custom of but- 
ton-hole bouquets worn by stock-brokers that it 
actually has given the women who sell flowers re- 
cognition. The flower girls, as they are all 
gallantly called, are permitted by the regula- 
tions to set down their baskets and sell their flow- 
ers around the iron railings opposite the Royal Ex- 
change. They are among the most respected stall- 
holders in the city. They are uniformly polite, as 
they may well be, since they may be said to be on 
speaking terms with all the youth and galLntry of 
Threadneedle and Throgmorton streets, and they 
are very skilled in the making of boutonnieres. 
A Visit to Woodlawn Cemetery, New York. 
One year ago I had the pleasure of visiting 
Woodlawn Cemetery, New York, and carried my 
camera with me. 
On leaving the train the first view to greet my 
eyes was the one shown in photo No. i. This is 
the best point of observation, and is the one every- 
body sees before entering the cemetery, after leav- 
ing the train; as in all landscape, there are many 
points of view, yet only a few or perhaps only one 
point where the grandest effects can be observed 
and the ideas of the artist properly appreciated. 
Of the many visitors on this occasion nearly 
every one stopped here to take more than 
a passing glance at the beautiful picture 
that lay before them. The gentle sloping 
terrace that disappears beneath the water’s 
edge, the unpretentious fountain sending 
up its delightful spray, seeming to try to 
cool the warm atmosphere. The group of 
evergreens with the back-ground of weep- 
ers and other deciduous trees ; the 
water that lays about the middle of the cemetery. 
Were I called upon to name it, I should say “Mir- 
ror Lake.” I walked around it more than once, 
viewing it from all points, and at last finding my 
ideal picture, I turned to see if a policeman was 
near enough to say “Keep off the grass.” Seeing 
none, I arranged my camera for a “quick shot,” 
and stole down the gentle slope until almost at the 
water’s edge. There I stood lost in thought, al- 
most enchanted with the scene that lay before me, 
forgetting my first intention of taking a “snap” 
and making a hasty retreat before being ordered off 
the grass. No comments of mine would add any- 
