- A Sea-Fight
(From the 'Life of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick'; drawn by John Rous about 1485.) - Bear-baiting
(From the Luttrell Psalter.) - Tomb of Edward III. in Westminster Abbey
- 'Britain's Sure Shield'
- House in Stoke Newington in which Edgar Allan Poe Lived
Stoke Newington is connected with the name of Edgar Allan Poe. It was here that he was at school, where he was brought over by the Allans as a child. The house still stands; it is at the corner of Edward’s Lane, which runs out of Church Street. Let us hope that the eccentricities of this wayward poet were not due to the influences of Nonconformist Newington. - The Shooting-Gallery
- On Margate Sands
The August bank-holiday is a repetition of Whit-Monday, without the freshness of that early summer day. By the end 304of July the foliage of the trees has become dark and heavy; the best of the flowers are over in field as well as garden; the sadness of autumn is beginning. All through the summer, especially on Saturdays and Sundays, the excursion trains are running in all directions, but especially to the seaside; the excursion steamers run to Southend, Walton, Margate, and Ramsgate. For those who stay at home there are the East-End parks, Victoria Park, West Ham Park, Finsbury Park, Clissold Park, Wanstead Park. They are thronged with people strolling or sitting quietly along the walks. All these parks are alike in their main features; they are laid out in walks and avenues planted with trees; they contain broad tracts of green turf; there is an inclosure for cricket; sometimes there is a gymnasium, and there is an ornamental water, generally very pretty, with rustic bridges, swans, and boats let out for hire. Where there is no park, as at Wapping and Poplar by the riverside, there are recreation grounds. In all of them a band of music plays on stated evenings. - Toynbee Hall and St. Jude’s Church
- The New Whitechapel Art Gallery
(The building to the right is a free library.) Some of the people, but not many, go off westward and wander about the halls of the British Museum. I do not know why they go there, because ancient Egypt is to them no more than modern Mexico, and the Etruscan vases are no more interesting than the “Souvenir of Margate,” which costs a penny. But they do go; they roam from room to room with listless indifference, seeing nothing. In the same spirit of curiosity, baffled yet satisfied, they go to the South Kensington Museum and gaze upon its treasures of art; or they go to the National Portrait Gallery, finding in Queen Anne Boleyn a striking likeness to their own Maria, but otherwise not profiting in any discoverable manner by the contents of the gallery. And some of them go to the National Gallery, where there are pictures which tell stories. - The East London Mission
- The New Model Dwellings
- Dr. Barnardo’s Home, Stepney Causeway
Those who have read Defoe’s “Colonel Jack” will remember the wonderful picture which he presents of the London street boy. That boy has never ceased to live in and about the streets. Sometimes he sleeps in the single room rented by his father, but the livelong day he spends in the streets; he picks up, literally, his food; he picks it up from the coster’s barrow, from the baker’s counter, from the fishmonger’s stall, when nobody is looking. For such boys as these there are Barnardo’s Homes, where waifs and strays to any number are admitted, brought up, trained to a trade, and then sent out to the colonies. Five thousand children are in these homes. The history is very simple. Dr. Barnardo, a young Irish medical student, came to London with the intention of giving up his own profession and becoming a preacher. He began by preaching in the streets; he picked up a child, wandering, homeless and destitute, and took it home to his lodgings; he found another and another, and took them home too. So it began; the children became too many for his own resources; they still kept dropping in; he took a house for them, and let it be known that he wanted support. The rest was easy. He has always received as much support as he wanted, and he has already trained and sent out to the colonies nearly ten thousand children. - Mile End Almshouses
Homes and schools for the boys and girls, hospitals for the adult, there remain the aged. Dotted about all over London there are about a hundred and fifty almshouses; of these about half are situated in and about East London. Not that the people of East London have been more philanthropic in their endowments than those of the west, but, before there was any city of East London, almshouses were planted here on account of the salubrity and freshness of the air and the cheapness of the ground. Some of these have been moved farther afield, their original sites being built over. The People’s Palace, for instance, is built upon the site of the Bancroft almshouses, founded in 1728 for the maintenance and education of one hundred poor. Their original house has gone, but the charity is still maintained. - The Bridge of Hope
“The Bridge of Hope,” a Well-known East End Night Refuge. - Brother Brushes
First R.A. (who hates to be interrupted in his hobby but is doing his best to be polite).—“Done any work to-day?” Second R.A.—“No, confound it. That stupid ass Brown came to the studio and talked all the afternoon,—couldn’t do a stroke of work. What do you do when some idiot comes and interrupts your work?” First R.A.—“Oh, I go on weeding.” - Brother Brushes
“Do you want a Muddle. Sir.” - Costers and Cockneys
“Ow I s’y, look at ’er frills. Got ’erself hup like a bloomin’ ’am bone!” - Costers and Cockneys
Fat Party (after a war of words).—“If you come down our court to-morrer and bring a bit o’ fat with yer, I’ll bloomin’ well eat yer.” - Costers and Cockneys
“What price this for Margit.” - Costers and Cockneys
One Easter Monday. ’Arriet (watching the funeral of ’Liza).—“Nice sort of a Bank ’Oliday for ’er, poor dear.” - Costers and Cockneys
“Wot’s th’ row up the Court, Bill?” “Bob Smith was kissing my missus, and ’is old woman caught ’im. - Costers and Cockneys
’Arriet.—“Ow! I s’y, look at ’is bloomin’ ’At.” - Costers and Cockneys
“I ’ear as you don’t walk hout with ’Arry Smith any more.” “No, ’e wanted me to meet ’im incandescently, and I wouldn’t do such a thing, so I chucked ’im.” - Costers and Cockneys
“Ere y’are, Lidies’ Tormentors. ‘Two’ n penny!” - Sign of the 'Sir Jeffrey Amherst'
On the other side of the highway, swinging romantically from the branches of a great Scotch fir, is the picture-sign of the house, bearing the legend, “Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Crown Point,” and showing the half-length portrait of a very determined-looking warrior, clad in armour and apparently deep in thought; while in the background is a broad river, across whose swift current boat-loads of soldiers, in the costume of two centuries ago, are being rowed. - Crown Point
On the other side of the highway, swinging romantically from the branches of a great Scotch fir, is the picture-sign of the house, bearing the legend, “Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Crown Point,” and showing the half-length portrait of a very determined-looking warrior, clad in armour and apparently deep in thought; while in the background is a broad river, across whose swift current boat-loads of soldiers, in the costume of two centuries ago, are being rowed. - Sign of the 'Running Horse'
Why the crowd resorted thus to tipple the horrible compound does not appear: one would rather drink the usual glucose and dilute sulphuric acid of modern times. The pictorial sign of the old house still proudly declares— “When Skelton wore the laurel crown My ale put all the alewives down.” To do that, you would think, it must needs have been both good and cheap. Certainly, if the portrait-sign of Elynor be anything like her, customers did not resort to the “Running Horse” to bask in her smiles, for she is represented as a very plain, not to say ugly, old lady with a predatory nose plentifully studded with warts. - Brass to Sir John D’Abernon
For the happily increasing class of tourists who are interested in archæology, let it be noted here that the chancel of this church contains the earliest monumental brass in the kingdom, the mail-clad effigy of Sir John D’Abernon, dated 1277. Many of his race, before and after his time, lie here. The life-sized engraved figure of this Sir John, besides being the earliest, is also one of the most beautiful. Clad from head to foot in a complete suit of chain mail,his hands clasped in prayer, heraldic shield on one arm, his pennoned lance under the other, and his great two-handed sword hanging from a broad belt outside the surcoat, this is a majestic figure. His feet rest on a writhing lion, playfully represented by the engraver of the brass as biting the lance-shaft. - Horseshoe Clump
Leaving the village behind and pursuing the Portsmouth road, the woodlands of Claremont Park are left behind as we come downhill towards Horseshoe Clump, a well-known landmark on this road. This prominent object is a semicircular grove of firs on the summit of a sandy knoll, looking over the valley of the Mole, the “sullen Mole” of the poets, flowing in far-flung loops below, on its way to join the Thames at Molesey. This is a switchback road for cyclists thus far, for the ridge on which Horseshoe Clump stands is no sooner gained than we go downhill again, and so up once more and across the level “fair mile,” to descend finally into Cobham Street, where the Mole is reached again. - Esher Old Church
The reflections conjured up by an inspection of Esher old church are sad indeed, and the details of it not a little horrible to a sensitive person. There is an early nineteenth-century bone-house or above-ground vault attached to the little building, in which have been stored coffins innumerable. The coffins are gone, but many of the bony relics of poor humanity may be seen in the dusty semi-obscurity of an open archway, lying strewn among rakes and shovels. To these, when the present writer was inspecting the place, entered a fox-terrier, emerging presently with the thigh-bone of some rude forefather of the hamlet in his mouth. “Drop it!” said the churchwarden, fetching the dog a blow with his walking-stick. The dog “dropped it” accordingly, and went off, and the churchwarden kicked the bone away. I made some comment, I know not what, and the churchwarden volunteered the information that the village urchins had been used to play with these poor relics. “They’re nearly all gone now,” said he. “They used to break the windows with ’em.” - Milton’s Cottage, Chalfont St. Giles
Chalfont St. Giles lies down in the valley of the Misbourne, across the high road which runs left and right, and past the Pheasant Inn. It is a place made famous by Milton’s residence here, when he fled London and the Great Plague. The cottage—the “pretty cot,” as he aptly calls it, taken for him by Thomas Ellwood, the Quaker—is still standing, and is the last house on the left-hand side of the long village street. The poet could only have known it to be a “pretty cot” by repute, for he was blind. - The George Hotel, Ruislip
Round about “Riselip,” as its inhabitants call it, they grow hay, cabbages, potatoes, and other useful, if humble, vegetables; and, by dint of great patience and industry, manage to get them up to the London market. It is only at rare intervals that the villagers ever see a railway engine, for Ruislip is far remote from railways, and so the place and people keep their local character.Two or three remarkably quaint inns face the central space round which the old and new cottages are grouped, and the very large church stands modestly behind, its battlemented tower peering over the tumbled roofs and gable-ends with a fine effect, an effect that would be still finer were it not that the miserably poor “restoration” work of the plastered angles, done by that dreadful person, Sir Gilbert Scott, is only too apparent. - The Old Lychgate, Penshurst
- The Trumpeter
THE TRUMPETER.” (SIR JOHN GILBERT, R.A.) (Drawn in pen and ink, from his picture in the Royal Academy, 1883.) [Size of drawing, 5½ by 4¾ in. Photo-zinc process.] - Where the Poor Live
The presence of aliens and their competition also lowers the already sufficiently low rate of wages. Houses, therefore, in these localities—once tenanted by a single family—are let off at exorbitant rates to as many as can be crammed into them. Lucky, indeed, is the married labourer who can anywhere secure a single room for{281} 4s. to 6s. a week. And such a room! No means of preparing a real meal, the family fare generally consisting of tea, “two-eyed steaks” (herrings), and a “couple of doorsteps” (two slices of bread) per head. - Hertfordshire Society of Archers
Women were not slow to appreciate the gracefulness of archery, and it soon became a fashionable amusement, the Lady Salisbury of the time being one of its most ardent supporters. Most of the societies adopted a distinctive dress, in which white and green predominated. The Royal British Bowmen adorned their Lady Patroness with a white feather in her hat, the other lady members being compelled to wear black ones, while their dresses were green with pink vandykes round the edge of skirt. The Harley Bush Bowmen were so fond of the distinctive colour, that they even had green boots, and it is pleasant to know that it was provided by the rules these should be "easy fitting!" - Archery Dresses
(About 1832). - The Last Days of the 'Swan with Two Necks'
The “Swan with Two Necks,” whence many coaches set out, until the end of such things, was often known by waggish people as the “Wonderful Bird,” and obtained its name from a perversion of the “Swan with Two Nicks”: swans that swam the upper Thames and were the property of the Vintners’ Company being marked on their bills with two nicks, for identification. Lad Lane is now “Gresham Street,” but, apart from its mere name, is a lane still; but the old buildings of the “Swan with Two Necks” were pulled down in 1856. - The 'Running Horse,' Leatherhead
A hundred and fifty years later than Piers Plowman we get another picture of an English ale-house, by no less celebrated a poet. This famous house, the “Running Horse,” still stands at Leatherhead, in Surrey, beside the long, many-arched bridge that there crosses the river Mole at one of its most picturesque reaches. It was kept in the time of Henry the Seventh by that very objectionable landlady, Elynor Rummyng, whose peculiarities are the subject of a laureate’s verse. - Elynor Rummyng
A hundred and fifty years later than Piers Plowman we get another picture of an English ale-house, by no less celebrated a poet. This famous house, the “Running Horse,” still stands at Leatherhead, in Surrey, beside the long, many-arched bridge that there crosses the river Mole at one of its most picturesque reaches. It was kept in the time of Henry the Seventh by that very objectionable landlady, Elynor Rummyng, whose peculiarities are the subject of a laureate’s verse. Elynor Rummyng, and John Skelton, the poet-laureate who hymned her person, her beer, and her customers, both flourished in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Skelton, whose genius was wholly satiric, no doubt, in his Tunning (that is to say, the brewing) of Elynor Rummyng, emphasised all her bad points, for it is hardly credible that even the rustics of the Middle Ages would have rushed so enthusiastically for her ale if it had been brewed in the way he describes. - An Ale-stake
The bibulium, that is to say, the ale-house or tavern, displayed its sign for all men to see: the ivy-garland, or wreath of vine-leaves, in honour of Bacchus, wreathed around a hoop at the end of a projecting pole. This bold advertisment of good drink to be had within long outlasted Roman times, and indeed still survives in differing forms, in the signs of existing inns. It became the “ale-stake” of Anglo-Saxon and middle English times. The traveller recognised the ale-stake at a great distance, by reason of its long pole—the “stake” whence those old beer-houses derived their name—projecting from the house-front, with its mass of furze, or garland of flowers, or ivy-wreath, dangling at the end. But the ale-houses that sold good drink little needed such signs, a circumstance that early led to the old proverb, “Good wine needs no bush.” - Seven Stars
The famous “Seven Stars”, in Withy Grove, proudly bearing on its front the statement that it has been licensed over 560 years, and is the oldest licensed house in Great Britain. - “Ye Olde Rover’s Return,” Manchester
The tottering, crazy-looking tavern called “Ye Olde Rover’s Return,” on Shude Hill, claiming to be the “oldest beer-house in the city,” and additionally said once to have been an old farmhouse “where the Cow was kept that supplied Milk to The Men who built the ‘Seven Stars" - The “Dick Whittington,” Cloth Fair
The City of London’s oldest licensed inn is, by its own claiming, the “Dick Whittington,” in Cloth Fair, Smithfield, but it only claims to have been licensed in the fifteenth century, when it might reasonably—without much fear of contradiction—have made it a century earlier. This is an unusual modesty, fully deserving mention. It is only an “inn” by courtesy, for, however interesting and picturesque the grimy, tottering old lath-and-plaster house may be to the stranger, imagination does not picture any one staying either in the house or in Cloth Fair itself while other houses and other neighbourhoods remain to choose from; and, indeed, the “Dick Whittington”[Pg 6] does not pretend to be anything else than a public-house. The quaint little figure at the angle, in the gloom of the overhanging upper storey, is one of the queer, unconventional imaginings of our remote forefathers, and will repay examination. - The Oldest Inhabited house in England
The “Fighting Cocks” inn at St. Albans, down by the river Ver, below the Abbey, claims to be—not the oldest inn—but the oldest inhabited house, in the kingdom: a pretension that does not appear to be based on anything more than sheer impudence. - The Kitchen of a Country Inn, 1797
The Kitchen of a Country Inn, 1797: showing the Turnspit Dog. (From the engraving after Rowlandson) - The Roadside Inn
- Formal arrangements in London parks
The formality of the true geometrical garden is charming to many to whom this style is offensive; and there is not the slightest reason why the most beautiful combinations of fine-leaved and fine-flowered plants should not be made in any kind of geometrical garden. - Gourds
The Gourd tribe is capable, if properly used, of adding much remarkable beauty and character to the garden; yet, as a rule, it is seldom used. There is no natural order more wonderful in the variety and singular shapes of its fruit than that to which the melon, cucumber, and vegetable marrow belong. From the writhing Snake-cucumber, which hangs down four or five feet long from its stem, to the round enormous giant pumpkin or gourd, the grotesque variation, both in colour and shape and size, is marvellous. - Centaurea babylonica
Among the Centaureas there are a few subjects which might be used among hardy fine-leaved plants, but by far the most distinct and remarkable is the very silvery-leaved C. babylonica. This is quite hardy, and when planted in good ground, sends up strong shoots, clad with yellow flowers, to a height of 10 ft. or 12 ft. The bloom, which continues from July to September, is not by any means so attractive as the leaves; but the plant is at all times picturesque. In `groups`, or, still better, isolated, on rough or undulating parts of pleasure-grounds, it has a very fine effect. A free sandy loam suits it best. - Colocasia odorata
Tender stove Section; will endure exposure only during summer in the warmest parts of the southern counties. - Buphthalmum speciosum
A hardy, distinct, and vigorous herbaceous plant, the stems of which are stout, very slightly branching, and about 4 ft. high, with broad, oval-acute leaves mostly clustered around the base of the plant, the lower ones falling gracefully towards the earth. The flowers, which have a red or purple disk and yellow rays, are more than 2 ins. across, and are terminal, solitary, long-stalked, borne in the axils of the upper leaves, and appear in June, July, or August, according to the season. The plant seldom flowers well before the third year. It is of easy culture in any soil, is increased by division in autumn, winter, or spring, and is best fitted for association with the more vigorous herbaceous plants in rough places. S. of Europe. - Caladium esculentum
Tender Section; displaying noble leaves during summer in the warmer parts of the southern counties. This species has, for outdoor work, proved the best of a large genus with very fine foliage. It is only in the midland and southern counties of Great Britain that it can be advantageously grown, so far as I have observed; but its grand outlines and aspect when well developed make it worthy of all attention, and of a prominent position wherever the climate is warm enough for its growth. It may be used with great effect in association with many fine foliage-plants; but Ferdinanda, Ricinus, and Wigandia usually grow too strong for it, and, if planted too close, injure it. - Canna
The most important and generally useful of tender plants for our climate.[England] Many kinds are hardy if protected in winter. - Carlina acaulis
A hardy perennial, rather interesting from its foliage, which has some resemblance to the leaves of a miniature Acanthus, and is disposed in a broad, handsome, regular rosette very close to the ground. Its single yellowish flower, 3 ins. or more across, is borne on a very short, erect stalk in the centre of the rosette. Although too dwarf for association with plants of more imposing stature, it is well worthy of a place on a bank or slope, or on the margins of low beds or `groups`, where its pleasing aspect and very distinct habit will be seen to best advantage. - Blechnum brasiliense
Dwarf tender Tree Fern: in sheltered shady dells during the summer months. - Bocconia cordata
This is a fine plant in free soil, but comparatively poor in that which is bad or very stiff. It forms handsome erect tufts from 5 ft. to over 8 ft. high, and is admirably suited for embellishing the irregular or sloping parts of pleasure-grounds. The stems grow rather closely together, and are thickly set with large, reflexed, deeply-veined, oval-cordate leaves, the margins of which are somewhat lobed or sinuated. The flowers, which are rosy-white and very numerous, are borne in very large terminal panicles. The flowers are not in themselves pretty, but the inflorescence, when the plant is well grown, has a distinct and pleasing appearance. - Bambusa aurea
A very hardy and graceful Chinese species, differing but slightly from B. viridi-glaucescens in size and habit, and forming elegant tufts with its slender much-branched stems, which attain a height of from 6½ ft. to 10 ft., and are of a light-green colour when young, changing into a yellowish hue, and finally becoming of a straw-yellow when fully grown. The leaves are lance-shaped acute, light green, and are distinguished from those of B. viridi-glaucescens by having their under surface less glaucescent, and the sheath always devoid of the long silky hairs. The preliminary remarks on culture, etc., will apply to all the species here described. - Bambusa falcata (Arundinaria falcata)
A very ornamental species from Nepaul and the Himalayas, and at present the only kind of bamboo much planted with us. It grows from 7 ft. to 20 ft. high, and has woody, twisted, smooth stems of a yellowish-green or straw-colour, knotty, bearing on one side of each of the knots a bundle of small branches equally knotty and twisted. The whole plant has a pale yellowish hue, except in the young spikelets and sheaths, which are occasionally purplish. The leaves are of a fine delicate green, from 4 ins. to 6 ins. long, ribbon-like, linear-acute, sickle-shaped, in two rows, short-stalked, and sheathing. It is hardy over the greater part of England and Ireland, but only attains full development in the south and west. I have seen it attain great luxuriance in Devon, and nearly 20 ft. high near Cork, though in many districts it is stunted. It loves a deep, sandy, and rich soil, and plenty of moisture when growing fast. - Berberis nepalensis
The noble habit of this plant makes it peculiarly valuable, possessing, as it does, the grace of a luxuriant fern with the rigidity of texture and port of a Cycas. The leaves are occasionally 2 ft. in length and of a pale green colour, sometimes with eight pairs of leaflets and an odd one: some of the leaflets 6 ins. long and nearly 2 ins. broad, with coarse spiny teeth on the margin. The inflorescence is very striking and beautiful. The Nepaul Barberry is one of those subjects that are too hardy to perish in our climate, yet which do not usually attain perfect development in it. It exists about London in the open air, and flowers in early spring; but the leaves seldom attain one-fourth of their full development, and the plant scarcely ever displays its vigorous grace. In mild parts, principally in the south and south-west, it grows more freely, and when judiciously placed in sheltered positions, in deep and rather sandy soil, it becomes a beautiful object. Where it thrives in the open air, it may be most tastefully used in the more open spots near the hardy fernery, here and there among “American plants,” or other choice s