House and Garden 
Somehow one thinks only of the picturesque con¬ 
cerning stage-coaches and old inns, and I like to 
imagine Mr. Gladstone and his friends setting out 
from the “Hen and Chickens” of a frosty morning, 
wrapped in their great coats, whde the fat and smiling 
landlord hows an ohsequious farewell. 
Perhaps the mosj: interesting account of all is given 
of Washington Irving, who has endeared himself to 
all who have read his fascinating stories. On the 
verge of ruin, and in a morbidly despondent frame of 
mind, he went to visit his hrother-in-law, Henry Van 
Wart, who did all in his power to remove the black 
cloud which seemed to have settled on Irving’s mind. 
He talked of their early days, spent together on the 
hank s o f the 
11 tidson, a nd 
recounted the 
queer stories of 
the people, and 
the weird tra¬ 
il i t i o n s of 
Sleepy Hollow. 
Stirred to inter¬ 
est once more, 
the author re¬ 
tired early one 
n ight t () h i s 
room, and as 
the thoiifrhts 
p o Li r e d o u r 
through his pin 
the story of 
Rip Van Win¬ 
kle was created. 
Py morning it 
was completed, 
and so delight¬ 
ed was Irving 
to hntl that the 
power for writ¬ 
ing was still his that he shortly afterwards began 
that other well-known work, the “Sketch Book.” 
As we have come down through the centuries, we 
hntl how Birmingham has grown and prospered, year 
by year, and how thriving have become its many 
manufactories. 
Names of great politicians, as well as literary gen¬ 
iuses, are enrolled in its records, and prominent 
among the former is that of one who has endeared 
O ^ 
himself to the hearts of his people by his splendid ser¬ 
vices for the town as well as for Great Britain. 
In contrast to the busy, practical, work-a-day 
aspect of Birmingham, are the grounds and orchid 
houses of Mr. Chamberlain, for the statesman loves 
flowers, and his favorite orchitis have now become 
world famous. 
Many narrow paths wind in and out among the 
gardens, of which there are four varieties. 
The grounds are so well planted and laid out that 
one feels the peace and seclusion of the country, and 
it is hard to realize that a great manufacturing city 
lies at the very gates of Highbury. 
After strolling around the duck pond, and telling 
the time of day by the old sun-dial, which forms a 
meeting place for four paths in the Dutch garden, we 
turn our footsteps hotiseward, across the lawn and 
bowling-green, to the long line of glass which so 
jealously guards its treasures, rare products from 
all lands. 
The twilight of an English June illumes all things 
with subdued radiance, as we find ourselves in the 
sweet tropical air of the palm room, with its glass sky 
above us, and 
the sound of 
running water 
in our ears,— 
which leads on 
and into a veri- 
table glory 
of loveliness. 
Down this walk 
we move, as if 
in a dream from 
which we must 
all too soon 
awaken and as 
house after 
house discloses 
its wealth of 
flowers, we be¬ 
come speech¬ 
less at the 
beauty of it all. 
But one’s last 
impression 
should betaken 
at night, when 
dozens of tiny 
electric bulbs, hidden under the vines drooping from 
above, and among the dark greens of ferns and leaves, 
sparkle like myriad jewels. The light fades slowly 
once more into soft darkness, broken here and there 
by the fitful rays of the lady moon, revealing masses 
of what were so recently brilliant orchitis, now turned 
by her magic into illusive, shimmering silver fairies. 
No sound is heard save the trickle of the fountain 
among the palms. The air is damp and heavily 
sweet. Above us and around us are the weird and 
beautiful shapes of countless orchitis. Visions of the 
distant East, of the homes of these exquisite things, 
drift before our eyes. The moon grows fainter, and 
hides impatiently behind a waiting cloud, as if to 
remind us that human beings should he in dream¬ 
land at this hour, and leave the fays and flowers to 
themselves. So we turn away reluctantly, for after 
all we are only mortals, and this is England! 
78 
