THE RURAL HEW- YORKER. 
which were few and far between, to suit Lady 
Martyn'a old-world notions of propriety. 
“ If you like; but It. Is almost a pity to waste 
such an afternoon upon her, Lucie.” 
“Jt will not be wasted, .Stanley,” she replied, 
laughingly. “ Nowhere shall we receive such a 
hearty welcome, and the honor of receiving you 
will drive her wild with delight. Do come.” 
44 Your wishes are laws,” he replied, gaily. “Lot 
us have one turn In the park first, and then for 
Brlxton, ijK;Ui tnia." 
So they drove gaily away through the thronging 
carriages and mute and fashou of St. James's; 
and then he turned the horses’ heads towards 
Bruton, where Mrs. CoJatou, who was the wife of 
a rich merchant and Lady Lucie’s former gover- 
erness, lived In a handsome modern mansion. 
“Poor Mrs. Colston!’’ sail the viscount, as 
they wont slowly up the carriage drive, ‘‘it al¬ 
ways surprises rne that with so much money she 
has so little taste. She has not a single beautiful 
thing In her house.” 
“ oh, Stanley, you are wrong,” exclaimed tits 
fiancee, excitedly. “ Look up there. Is not that 
a lovely faoe?” 
Lord Almane glanced up In the direction she 
Indicated, and saw what changed bis indifferent 
expression into one of eager and Intense surprise. 
It was the face or a young girl, who was slltlug 
by the open window, apparently absorbed In a 
book she held. Her eyelids Weru lowered and hid 
her eyes, but the exquisite shape of the face, the 
careless grace with which her rich luxuriant hair 
was drawn back from her brow, denied Lord Al- 
mane’K assertion that Mrs. Colston bad no beau¬ 
tiful thing In her houso. 
“ Who can she be?" mused Lady Lucie; aud 
though Lord Almane could have gratified her cu¬ 
riosity, be did not pause to do so. 
Reining lu his horses with a sudden jerk which 
pulled l,hem almost on to their haunches, he 
threw the reins to the groom, and springing out, 
lifted out Lady Lucie, who ran lightly up the 
steps to meet Mrs. Colstou, who appeared full of 
hospitable but fussy welcome. 
The viscount waited a moment, to glvp an order 
to the servant, and men followed more slowly ; 
as he did so the girl lu the window lifted her eyes, 
and they met his. it was but a transient glance, 
but. it Bufileed; Lord Almane saw the beautiful 
face flush and grow pale, and knew that he had 
found again the girl for whom he had made such 
fruitless search. The face at the window be¬ 
longed to Cora Sinclair. 
As I.ady Lucie bad predicted, the welcome they 
received Irom Mrs. Colston was of the heartiest; 
she was delighted to see her ex-pupll looking so 
blooming, and overwhelmed with the honor of 
Lord Almane's visit, while the latter charmed her 
by the cordiality and easy grace or his manner, 
and for some minutes the drawing-room, gor¬ 
geous lri gliding and crimson damask, wa^ alive 
with lively and animated conversation.—To be 
continued. 
—~-♦ ♦ ♦- 
AUNT OALISTA'S HAIE, 
“SPLENDID 1” 
“Magnificent!” 
“ So long 1” 
“So thick!” 
“And soft!” 
“Aud glossy!” 
“ The loveliest brown!” < 
“ With just a tinge of gold !” i 
“ A nd It waves so sweetly !” 
It was Edna and Alloc Bristol who were prats- 1 
lng their Aunt Callsta's hair. Auut Gullsla 1 
“ pished !" and ** pshawed !” and begged them to 1 
hush; but It was evident, after all that she was 
pleased at their enthusiastic praise of what, was 1 
her ouly positive attraction. An attraction of * 
which she, poor soul, had been heretofore but 1 
dimly conscious, for all her life, thus rar, had 1 
been so occupied lu caring for others, that she 1 
had no time to think of herself, whether she wore 1 
a fright or otherwise; though a fright she cer- 1 
talnly was not, for her complexion was fair and 
clear, and her expression was one of great sweet- t 
ness aud Intelligence, loo, so what matter If her '■ 
features were not all cast In beauty’s perfect < 
mold. 1 
A quiet, sober, and, at times, a sorrowful ex- 1 
istence had been hers since her earliest girl hood- - ’ 
she was now bordering upon old-maidenhood— ' 
when, for several years, she was almost the sole 
nurse and companion of an invalid mother; and £ 
then, later, when death had removed from her 1 
clinging arms this loved charge, her father was 1 
stricken down with an incurable and lingering R 
disease, and she was kept a close but not un¬ 
willing prisoner by beside for many more long, 
weary yeurs, until now he, too, was mercifully 
taken to rest, and she had come to make her homo, 
for awhile, with an only sister, who had man led 
and removed far from her native place, many 
years before. 
This sister and her two young daughters wero v 
gay and fashionable, aud It seemed like being In a 1 
new world to her, quiet old maid as she was, and r 
she kept within the seclusion of her own room as r 
much as her lively nieces would allow her. e 
Do not Imagine, though, that she was either 
awkward or vulgar, for she was nothing of the l 
kind. JI or father had been a man of high men- v 
tal culture and refinement, and the few rrlends ‘ 
who visited him occasionally during his long 111- 1 
ness were gentlemen of like tastes and advan- 1 
tages; besides, too, she, with him, had been a a 
constant reader of all the standa rd literature, as t. 
fast as It came before the public; so that, al- a 
tliough dreading society, and shrinking aud t< 
easily embarrassed when compelled to mingle la b 
It, she was far from being a person of whom her r 
y friends need feel ashamed, had they been much 
more sensitive than they were. 
0 “Ohl Aunt Cally,” pleaded Edna, “do let us 
dress your hair, Just this once. You’ve no Idea 
i what a difference It will make In your appearance 
a to have It done rashlonably. You might be sty- 
i tlsh If you only would. Why, your hair alone 
Is enough to make your fortune!” 
1 “ Make my fortune ?”sa!d Aunt Cally. “ I don’t 
1 understand. Sell it, you mean 7 ” 
, “ Catch a husband with It, I mean,” laughed 
1 Edna. “Now, don’t look so horrified, aunty 1 
’ Yen must know that every girl and woman waDts 
t to do that—catch a husband—whether they will 
own It or not." 
Aunt Callsta zms horrified, quite as much as 
her looks expressed. 
“ Catch a husband!” she gasped. “ Girls of your 
' age talking like that,! Why, I thought It was 
women who were caught If there was any catch¬ 
ing In tho case. 1 didn’t know thaL they hunted 
or fished ror husbands!” 
“ Well they cto, Aunt, Cally,” asserted Alice, 
she, a3 well as Edna, Intensely amused at their 
aunt’s “country simplicity,” as they called It. 
“ Why, half the women here are doing their very 
best to catch Lawyer Chester now.” 
“The bold, forward things!” exclaimed Aunt 
Callsia.in great disgust. “Jf he has any sense, 
he won t have any of them. 1 hope neither or you 
are Included In the number.” 
Alice tossed her bead with allttle sniff, saying: 
“ 1 don’t care for a husband old enough to be 
iny lather, if lie Is rich and popular; and as for 
Edna,”—with an arch look towards her sister— 
“she has her fish already caught; so don’t worry 
about us, but Just be nice, and let us braid tbeso 
beautiful long tresses, aud put them up high up¬ 
on your head lu a lovely c-oll, and then you’ll 
look young and pretty; and you shall catch 
Lawyer Chester yourself, so you shall, without 
trying one bit." 
“ YOU make me ashamed, though I know you 
are only teasing. If I thought you were In 
earnest I should be angry with you,” replied 
Auut Cally. 
But the girls had their way with her hair, 
though they nearly had their labor for their 
pains; for when she escaped from them at last, 
and took a look at herself In the glass, she gave a 
balf-irlghtened exclamation of, “Oh, my pa¬ 
tience!” aud unconsciously put up her bauds to 
destroy the wonderful structure they had built of 
It. They both Hew to the rescue, laughing, aud 
seizing her hands. 
"Don’t, don’t, aunty!” they both entreated; 
and Edna added: “You look splendid; and 
you'll gel used to It In a little while; so. now, 
please, put on your most becoming dress, and 
then If company- calls, you must not run off and 
hide yourself as soon us the bell rings. You look 
ever so much like mamma now. only younger, " 
and she’s not thought to be a bod-looklng woman 
I assure you.” 
Two hours later. Aunt Calteta came stealthily 1 
down stairs with a volume of Bryant’s poems in 
her hand, and her black straw fiat “ upon her 
face.” She said; “There was no other way to 
wear It.” Mhe was going for a walk, mainly to 
escape the company which she was certain was 
expected during the afternoon. I 
“ Walt a moment, aunty,” called out Alice, 
who provoklngly came through the hall, Just as ■ 
she thought she had escaped the observation of 
any of the family. “ Walt a moment, and let me 
bunch up your overskirt a little more. You are ' 
determined to rulu all your prospects In life, and 1 
disappoint the cherished hopes of your dearest i 
friends.” i 
Aunt Cally laughingly eluded her, and darling 1 
through the door, disappeared around the house, f 
and look her way across tho garden and through 1 
the meadow u> the brook, which skirted Its 
farther edge. .She strolled along its bank until < 
It entered a wood, and then for some distance 1 
farther, enjoy Jug the coolness, the silence and tho i 
restful quiet. , 
" Ob, this Is lovely I" she said to herself. “And 1 
there Is Just the place I have been looking ror! 
That spreading beech upon that bauk. I wish i 
that clump or alders was not there, though; they ( 
hide the brook from me; but never mind, I can 
hear It. ripple, and gurgle, and • babble,’ I believe 
the poets call It,, and that win do quite as well as 
seeing it.” 
So she climbed the steep bank, and seated her¬ 
self with her back against the smooth stem of 
the beech, and, removing her hat, looked about 
her for a few minutes, aud then with a sigh of ‘ 
satisfaction opened her book and read: 
“Here are seen 
No traces of man's pomp or pride; no silks 
Rustle, no Jewels shine, no envious eyes 
Encounter; no fantastic carvings show 1 
The boast of our vain race, to change the form * 
Of thy fair works. But tlion art hero; thou flll’st 1 
Tho solitude. •• £ 
llark! Was not that footsteps? It certainly 1 
was; and they were coming down to the brook. 1 
Now she was glad of the alder Bcrecn. She would * 
remain quite still, and the person, whoever It 6 
might be, would pass on, unconscious of her pres- s 
ence. » 
There lie came; she could pcop through the c 
bushes and see that It was a man; yes, a man 
with a llshtDg rod—a short, middle-aged man— ti 
“ And, of all things! If be Isn’t going to stop right t 
here! Well, this Is a situation! I can’t go away, a 
He d be sure to see me. I shall have to sit still t 
and hold my breath. What if he stays here all i 
the afternoon! l hopo to goodness he won’t catch t 
a single tlsh, the brute! I won’t look at him!” t 
for she had been peeping down through the a 
branches of the alders, while the gentleman was v 
rapidly preparing for his cruel sport. f 
i It was rather an embarrassing situation fora 
timid spinster, to be sure. The gentleman was 
& so close to her that, but for tUe screen of alders, 
i she could almost have touched his hat with her 
3 hand. The alder-hushes were barely high enough 
. to hide her from view, as she sat. The moment 
3 she arose she might, bo discovered. Besides the 
unpleasantness of the situation, she had a pro- 
► found horror of fishing. 
“ I won’t look i 1 won't look!" she said to her¬ 
self, over and over, and resolutely bent her eyes 
upon her book. But try as she might, she could 
not take the sense of what she read, and could 
not keep her eyes from stealing glances now aud 
then through the leaves, down at the unconscious 
figure, sitting bo motionless almost at her feet. 
Dow absorbed he was! She could not see his face, 
of course, for his back was towards her; but she 
fancied that his eyes were bent immovably upon 
his line, watching for Hie least Intimation of a 
bite or a nibble. 
Before she was aware she, too, began to be in¬ 
terested. Luckily, or unluckily, she could see a 
bit of the line, Just where It entered the water. 
There! did It. not tremble a lit,tie ? No, It was 
only a ripple In the water that moved It. There, 
again! That certainly was something, oh, dear! 
It was too dreadful > What tr some poor little 
hungry, unsuspecting tlsh were to come along, 
and bo caught on that cruel hook, deceived by 
the tempting bait, and she should be obliged to 
witness the barbarous transaction ? She worn a 
not look another second. But, somehow, she 
couldn’t stop looking, and every minute vibration 
or the line only Increased the fascination, and 
made her the more unxlous for the result, once 
or twice the hook was lifted out of the water for 
an lustant, and each time she almost shrieked 
aloud. 
“If he should bring up a poor little struggling 
creature, I shall scream, 1 knowl shall," she said 
to herself. “ It seems as If I must throw some¬ 
thing at him, the great awful brute!” 
SllO had half Hsen dow, and was peering over 
the tops of the alders with anxious frightened 
eyes riveted upon the line, feeling, as sho had just 
said, as though she must scream, when, all at 
once, there was a very perceptible pull down¬ 
ward, followed Instantly by a most vigorous Jerk 
upwards, and she did scream, for good gracious! 
what was It tugging at her hair, as though the 
purpose was to take It all out hy the roots ? 
Her scream brought the gonueman to her side 
almost Instantly. 
“Good Heavens, madam!” he exclaimed, ex¬ 
citedly, “1 hope you arc not. hurt. What Is it ? 
Ah! I see; my fish-hook caught In your hair. 
How awkward of me! However, be calm, mad¬ 
am,”—this, by the way, was wholly unnecessary, 
for Auut Callsta was as quiet and composed, to 
all outward appearance, uow as sho ever was In 
her lire— 1 * I can very soon extricate it, if you will 
- mo." And without waiting for permission 
with deft pliant, fingers, he set about his task, 
talking volubly all the while; uow a word or two 
of apology for himself, then a remark upon the 
beauty or the day, then her book -Bryant was a 
favorite of his, too-then a compliment to her 
hair—he wouldn’t have believed it was natural— 
until, at last, In a tone of satisfaction, and with a 
little Hourlsh of the hands, " There we are,” he 
said, “ clear at last I” A nd A unt Callsta thanked 
him, without exactly knowing Tor what, however; 
and taking her book aud hat, prepared to relurn 
home. 
Ilalf an hour later, her 'sister and nieces 
were electrified by soelug her walk shyly In¬ 
to tho house, accompanied by Lawyer Chester, 
for It was lie, and this la the way their acquain¬ 
tance began. How It grew and ripened I shall 
leave you to guess from this slight bit of conver, 
satlon which somebody overheard tho following 
Christmas: 
* 4 It was your hair that did it, after all, Aunt J 
Cally,”—It was Edna who was speaking—" and 
what did I tell you ? Didn’t I say that, properly ' 
managed, your hair might make your fortune ? i 
And hasn’t It,? You’ve got a husband, or wilt 
have one to-morrow.” 
i 
“But please to remember, miss,” Aunt Callsta , 
replied, with spirit, “ that / was the one that was . 
caught.” 
KEW GARDENS. 
WILLIAM FALCONER. 
The Royal Botanic Gardens, at Kew near Lon¬ 
don, are the noblest national botanic gardens in 
the world, and there more living genera and 
spcclos of the vegetable kingdom are represented 
than lu tho same space anywhere else on the 
eart h. They comprise an area of 322.8 acres, and 
are support ed by the British Government at an 
expense or about * 100,000 annually. They come 
under the Jurisdiction of the Board of Works and 
arc presided over by a director (Sir Jobkfh Dal¬ 
ton Hook kit, who vlHlted our country for nearly 
three months last year), an assistant director 
and a curator; aud have a working force of 
several permanent and experienced foremen, 
some thirty experienced young gardeners who 
are employed in the greenhouses, and a host of 
outdoor and indoor laborers. 
Visitors are admitted gratis from 1 I*. M. till 
dark everyday of the year, Sundays Included, 
except Christmas day on w’hlolx day the gardens 
are closed. The proximity of Kew to London, 
the fame and beauty of t.lie gardens, the lovely 
[lowers, and the acres of glasshouses and ample 
breadths of lawns and woodland groves make 
these gardens a pleasurable resort In Bummer 
and winter, In fair weather or in foul, and they are 
well patronized by visitors of whom on holidays 
from 20,000 to 00,000 visit them. 
1 The outdoor gardens are divided Into two dlvl- 
b slons, which are known as the Botanic Garden 
, and the Arboretum or Pleasure Grounds. Tho 
r grounds In the botanic garden are kept as well as 
1 those of any nobleman in the country, and are 
t enlivened with beds of spring and sumtner- 
3 blooming plants, groups or shrubs, noble specimen 
- trees from all parts of the temperate world, al¬ 
pine plants and ferns, and a special corner for 
. hardy herbaceous plants, of which the collection 
j represented la enormous. Tho Pleasure Grounds 
l include a piece of woodland, a wide sweep of 
l lawn, hills and dells, also a lake. And In this dl- 
I vision hardy shrubs are arranged In botanlca 1 
1 groups, and amoDg them are very many repre¬ 
sentatives of the United States. Unfortunately, 
tho natural soil of Kew Gardens Is wretchedly 
1 sterile, and consequently arboreal specimens are 
shortellved; but as regards shrubs and particular 
trees, the evil is partly remedied by Introducing 
a depth of good compost where only a parched 
skin existed. The beauty of these gardens 1s en¬ 
hanced by the presence of Father Thames which 
skirts their whole length on one side, the princely 
mansion and spacious grounds of Syon House, 
the Seat of the Duke of Northumberland, and 
which is on the opposite side of tho Thames, 
and the proximity of Richmond, from tho hill 
of which 01x0 01 the most lovely views In South¬ 
ern England Is obtained. [In the grounds at 8yon 
House is the finest collection or mature speci¬ 
mens of American trees to be found In Great 
Britain.] 
The green-houses at these noble gardens are 
numerous and immense. The Palm houso Is a 
magultlcent, cuivllluear glass building, Iron 
being used altogether la place of wood. lls out¬ 
line Is a semi-ellipse; the extreme length, 3«2 ft.. 
breadth or center, mo It.; and bight of central 
part, 03 it. It Is surrouuded within by side 
benches, Oh which plants in pots are grown und 
geographically arranged, aud the central spaces 
arc occupied by large pluuls of every tropical 
country, grown In large pots, Immense tubs, or 
planted out lu beds of earth. We commonly re¬ 
gard palms aa graceful little pot-plants, such as 
are seen lu ilorlstu'shops; hullo see them as itiey 
are at Kew, we must recall the towering tufted 
trees that kiss the waters of Florida or the West 
Indies, or arc found in gardens along some parts 
of tho gulf coast. In this glass house we find 
ran palms and feather palms with leaves rising 
right to the topmost pane, fan palms, date palms, 
sugar palms, and others with vast arboreal 
Stems annually fiowertug und fruit ing. A fan of 
Sabal umbraoullfera might roof a cabin, and 
feathers or avenga sn.eeharlfera are over 30 reet 
long. Tho Giant Bmeboo shoots up branched 
stems or over to it. high in a year, and the Trav¬ 
eller's Tree or Madagascar is seen In Its true 
character, with tall palm-llko trunk and lulled 
head of erect Banana-tree-llkc leaves. A rads and 
Juugie vegetation and twiners court the stems of 
the palms, aud the walks are bordered with a 
dense edging of llvlug moss. “Jack apples”of 
Java ripen as plentifully on the tree as Baldwins 
do la New York, und the clusters of Bananas (M. 
saplentum) are yearly matured, and they are of 
splendid quality. Round the central portion of 
this structure Is a gallery (after the fashion of 
that at the botanic garden at Washington, the 
palm-house at which la to that at Kew but little 
more than a marble Is to a foot-ball )reached by 
two cylindrical Iron stalr-caaes, and from which 
the beauty of the tropical forests beneath can 
be viewed to advantage. 
The Great Temperate House Is larger than the 
palm houso, aud with tho exception of the two 
end wings is completed. As It now stands It pre¬ 
sents a central part 212 reet long. 13T feet wide 
and 00 feet high, and at each end is an octagon 50 
feet In diameter. The end wings are proposed to 
be 112 feet long, 62 feet wide and 37 feet high; so 
that when finished tills house will be 082 feet long, 
covering some 48 ,000 superficial feet—nearly 1% 
acres. Hero are collected all half-hardy plants, 
from Australia, New Zealand, the mountains of 
India, some parts of China and Japan, the Medit¬ 
erranean neighborhood aud elsewhere, aud no¬ 
where lu England Is there a more pleasurable re¬ 
sult than Is here attained where tho plants are 
planted out. Araucarias, Bluu Gums aud some 
others soared so lofty that they had to he re¬ 
moved; the Blkklin Rhododendron* arc at home 
and a-btaze; the Australian Acacias are mighty 
trees, umbrageous, silvery, graceful and draped 
with gold; aud Evorgreeus assume an almost 
olive hue. Eugenia Ugnl berries as heavily as do 
Huckleberries In New England swamps, and Pas¬ 
sion dowers depend In festooned drapery on stair¬ 
cases and from the room. Benches with geo¬ 
graphically arranged plants In pots surround the 
house, and a stairway conducts us to a gallery 
above. 
In the Water-Lily House tho Nelumbluin or 
Sacred Bean of Egypt and tropical N yin pine as 
grow with native luxuriance. In another aqua¬ 
rium the Victoria rogla Is regularly grown to per¬ 
fection. Its circular leaves attain nearly seven 
feet in width, are strongly netted underneath, 
and, providing a tray or board bo placed on Hi em 
to prevent breaking through them, they will boar 
up over a man’s weight without breaking or sink¬ 
ing. From twenty to thirty-four (lowers are an¬ 
nually produced; they are largo, beautiful, or a 
pale rose oolor, and last but a day. 
Next door is the Orchid department, where 
India’s most gorgeous treasures, and tho most 
beautiful gems or t.heAudoB and Mexico lluda 
homo; and tho representatives are legion. I’ttcner 
plants too, from the Indian Archipelago, find a 
resting place. At the opposite end are economic 
plant houses, where the representatives of tropi¬ 
cal and semi-tropical plants of medicinal and 
other commercial interest are grown. An adjoin- 
