had the care of the house, in order to look at it, he recognized in him a person whom he had previously known when he lived in this neighborhood. He said, "I have seen you before, have I not? "It may be, I was once gardener at "Well, what do you do now?" "Now I keep the Crown."" "Ah," said the ex-monarch with a shrug, "I tried to keep the Crown too, but I did not succeed." Claremont House, where the old Queen Amelia lived, is some distance away from the river to the right. We drove over the meadows and crossed Richmond Bridge, climbing up that long and far-famed hill, to the “Star and Garter Hotel." With every evidence of the most sumptuous abundance, I could not get a morsel of luncheon, and was decidedly informed that it was impossible to be served, that orders must be left four hours beforehand. This was true, as everybody in England must dine alone, and all the rooms were occupied. After enjoying the fine view from the terrace of the hotel, over the valley, park, and river, softened with a delicate golden haze of early summer afternoon, I went on to Kew. Here, at a neat inn, I met with a better reception, and when the strawberries and cream were finished, was prepared to enjoy a walk in the Gardens. They are the largest public gardens in England. They formerly belonged to the Georges, and were part of the grounds of the old Kew Palace. Sir Joseph Banks in his day was greatly interested in the laying out and nourishing of the Botanic Gardens,

and planted them with exotics obtained by himself in his voyage around the world. In 1841 a new impulse was given to the improvement of the grounds, and the plan was adopted to make this the home of all the plants that grow within the borders of the British Empire, the world over. One sees the harmoniously combined beauties of all parts of the earth, and the marriage of the tropics with the arctics, as if it were Eden from which all things sprung, or a restored Eden, in which all things again flourish. Such a garden makes us think of the physical capabilities of the earth, when it shall be brought under the perfect influences of Love, Light, and Order. The immense "Palm-house," or "Palm-stove" in the midst of the garden, is its chief point of interest. From it three broad walks or vistas radiate, one of them running nearly a mile to the river's brink. Its hot-water pipes extend 24,000 feet in length. Beneath its glass roof one may see the fan-leaved trees of the Pacific Islands, and the spice-trees and banyan of India, the caoutchouc, the cotton and the indigo plant.

Near by is the tropical "Aquarium,” where the glory of Kew Gardens, the "Victoria Regia from South America, grows. Here also the papyrus is cultivated, from which good paper has been made. To the west of the "Palm-house " extends the "Pinetum," a grove of some twenty-four acres, devoted to coniferous trees. In front of the "Palm-house" is an artificial pond. It is delightful at the calm hour of evening to walk in a garden

like this when the flowers are sending up their incense, and all colors blend together, and all descriptions of plants, from the cedar of Lebanon to the lowly English laurel, and whinbush, are to be seen. The humblest ferns and heaths are not wanting. The heaths of Australia, I remember, were particularly beautiful.

CHAPTER V.

HOMES OF ARNOLD AND COWPER.

EIGHTY-THREE miles from London, upon the London and Birmingham Railway, is the town of Rugby, anciently Rokeby. Although Rugby lies near the river Avon, it has little natural beauty. Speaking of mountain scenery, Dr. Arnold writes: "I only know of five counties in England which cannot supply it, and I am unluckily perched down in one of them. These five are Warwick, Northampton, Huntingdon, Cambridge, and Bedford. I should add perhaps Rutland, and you cannot name a seventh; for Suffolk, which is otherwise just as bad, has its bit of sea-coast. We have no hills, no plains, not a single wood, and but one single copse; no heath, no down, no rock, no river, no clear stream, scarcely any flowers, for the lias is particularly poor in them; nothing but an endless monotony of inclosed fields and hedge-row trees. This is to me a daily privation; it robs me of what is naturally my anti-attrition, and as I grow older I begin to feel it. My constitution is sound but not strong, and I feel any little pressure or annoyance more than I used to do; and the positive dullness of the country about Rugby makes it to me a mere

working-place. I cannot expatiate here even in my walks." It proves the nobleness of the man, that during his vacation rambles, his visits to Westmoreland, and his journeyings in Switzerland and Italy, in which he showed the bounding enthusiasm of a boy, he always kept his eye steadily on uncongenial Rugby as the place of his work. He had an aim in life, a work to do, which he placed above the cultivation of the beautiful, and which was the most beautiful thing. He was wont to repeat the words of Bacon, "In this world God only and his angels may be spectators."

But before speaking further of Dr. Arnold, or Rugby, I would say a word about a brief visit to Bilton Hall, the home of Addison. This is a mile and a half to the south of Rugby. I was kindly permitted to see the house and grounds. There is a fine avenue of trees, or short drive, leading up to the house, which last is not seen until one comes into the court-yard itself. It is an old-fashioned and picturesque building, rather low, but covering much ground. Though aware of the historical fact, one naturally asks how could a literary man have gotten himself housed in such a famous old pile? I passed through the house into the garden. This is large and pleasantly laid out, without being stiff. Beyond the garden and separated from it by a wire fence, is an ancient park. There are no ornaments but trees and smooth lawns. The trees are here and there disposed for shady walks. A little summer-house upon a green knoll near the mansion