64 
House & Garden 
For Your Garden 
Left to right —Fork, 
$ .50; t r o w e 1, $.50; 
bulb planter, 
dibbler, $ .25 : 
gruliber, $ .65. 
$ 1 . 00 ; 
daisy 
iVicker Garden 
Basket, complete 
with tools as illus¬ 
trated, $10.50. 
Garden Tool Sets 
—T h r e e sizes, 
$4.50. $5.75, $7.00. 
ThisGarden T rellis 
is painted green 
with the figure of 
the bird in colors. 
It comes in two 
sizes. 24 inches 
high, $2.00: and 30 
inches high, $2.75. 
T his year let 
your garden be 
a real success. Don’t 
let it deteriorate in¬ 
to a tanglewood of 
good intentions. 
Nothing can make 
your home more at¬ 
tractive than flow¬ 
ers; nothing can 
make your table 
more appetizing 
than fresh vegeta- 
And nothing 
bring results 
the proper 
tools. You will find 
them all here. 
bles. 
can 
like 
Garden Bird Bath, of 
decorative stoneware 
on a pedestal. The 
height is 18 inches and 
the price is $12.00. 
45th Street and 6th Avenue 
New York 
Bucks, Frills and Horseflesh in Old English Prints 
(Continued from page 40) 
Dear old prints, they are 
as human as cronies; all 
the gossip and scandal of 
their period is in them. 
And the gossip is as fresh 
and diverting to-day as 
when it was first whis¬ 
pered, or our dollars 
would never have sacked 
a couple of English cen¬ 
turies for the sake of the 
prints thereof. 
I know dull dogs who 
prose about the main in¬ 
terest of old prints lying 
in the method of reproduc¬ 
tion, and not in the subject 
reproduced. That is all 
my eye, dear reader, take 
it from me. Those old 
boys have doddered after 
the technical details of 
processes until they are no 
longer conscious that a 
print is a picture. At the 
liveliest it is a diagram to 
them, a mere plan. 
Tut, tut, the play’s the 
thing, as ever. 
I promise you I have 
seen one of those spec¬ 
tacled technical sharps 
snooping over a batch of 
joyous sporting prints, and 
sourly sorting them according to the 
kind of reproductive process used 
(line, aquatint, lithograph, and the 
devil knows what), with never a grin 
on his lean, old visage. There is some 
truth in the plebeian observation that 
it takes all sorts to make a world. 
The old prints are simply the re¬ 
sults of an early instinct for kodak- 
ery. The bucks and blades of a dozen 
decades ago had no cameras so they 
sensibly set Mister Engraver to work 
to preserve pictorial memos of frolics 
afoot, ahorse and acoach, if I may 
say so. And the engravers took the 
tip and made a mint of money at it, 
I hope. Maybe some of the old prints 
caused trouble when they were new, 
just as a scandalous snapshot will. It 
is a moot point whether the Duke of 
York would have taken out the lovely 
Miss Clark in his curricle that bright 
afternoon in 1810 had he known the 
event was to be perpetuated in a print. 
For all I know he might have ob¬ 
tained the consent of the Duchess 
first, but then again, he mightn’t. 
Anyway, the print fetched a good 
price in New York last week. 
To take off the raw newness of a 
room, to ripen it, and even to pervade 
it with a vague air of the ancestral, 
commend me to a few old coaching 
prints of generations agone. 
“The Brighton Mail,” “Ready to 
After a hard dag of it, behold—“The 
Sportsman”! Eis neckcloth and boots are 
disheartening. Some people simply can't 
look untidy 
Start,” “Changing Horses,” “Coach 
Passengers at Breakfast,” “Bull and 
Mouth Inn Yard,” what a stream of 
pleasant, imaginative reminiscence 
the very titles start. Stuff your ears 
to factful folk who will tell you that 
the old days were very uncomfort¬ 
able, and indulge, with Thackeray, m 
a fine manly lament at their absence. 
“It must have been no small pleas¬ 
ure to sit even in the great kitchen in 
those days, and see the tide of human¬ 
kind pass by. What fun to see the 
Captain ogling the chambermaid in 
the wooden gallery, or bribing her to 
know who is the pretty young mis¬ 
tress that has come in the coach. The 
packhorses are in the great stable, 
and the drivers and ostlers carousing 
in the tap. And in Mrs. Landlady’s 
bar, over a glass of strong waters, 
sits a gentleman of military appear¬ 
ance, who travels with pistols as all 
the rest of the world does, and has a 
rattling gray mare in the stables 
which will be saddled and away with 
its owner half an hour before the 
‘Fly’ sets out on its last day’s flight. 
And some five miles on the road, as 
the ‘Exeter Fly’ comes jingling and 
creaking onwards, it will suddenly be 
brought to a halt by a gentleman on 
a gray mare, with a black vizard on 
his face, who thrusts a long pistol 
(Continued on page 66) 
Fresh horses! Up loith the luggage! The lady ivants a drink! 
With a crack of the whip and a toot of the horn the Mail and 
Stage Coach goes sioagging off to London! 
