are made never more than two minutes elapses between the sounding of the alarm and the play of both water and chemical streams at any given point.

All the equipment, while so disposed as to be instantly available, is concealed from public view.

Every condition which might contribute accidentally to a conflagration has been eliminated. There are no fires about the mansion or its adjacent buildings, the whole unit being heated by hot water radiation from a subterranean boiler room located 400 feet away. All lighting of the buildings is by a most carefully protected system, which was especially designed by Mr. Thomas A. Edison and installed under his personal direction. In the Mansion itself there is no wiring whatever, and when it is necessary to light it, portable storage batteries are used to supply the

power.

The shingle roofs of the buildings are sealed underneath by a packing of rock wool held in position by sheet rock, and in the apex of each structure is a system of piping so arranged that in the event of a fire carbonic acid gas could be released. This, being heavier than air, would travel down through the interstices between the outside sheathing and the plastering of the walls and smother a fire there in its incipiency.

EVERY VISITOR HELPS THE SHRINE Every visitor to Mount Vernon becomes a supporter of this national shrine by paying a small admission fee. The sum total of these fees, economically administered by the ladies of the Association, who hold the property in trust for the Nation, is sufficient to maintain appropriately the house and grounds and to protect it from spoliation.

A much greater amount of management and labor is involved in keeping Washington's home as he left it than is generally supposed. Sixty-five persons are employed on the premises.

Time was when many of the visitors attempted to carry away everything they could lay hands on; but the souvenir vandal is now disappearing. One selfish individual, when admonished for cutting flowers in the garden, replied defiantly that as she had contributed a dollar to the purchase fund, the place was partly hers,

and she would cut as many flowers as she pleased! On the whole, however, visitors accord that whole-hearted respect and veneration that is due the memory of Washington.

BIRTHPLACE TO BE RESTORED ALSO

Within the last few years a movement has been started to restore Washington's birthplace at Wakefield, Virginia. The house in which he was born was destroyed by fire in 1780, but the Wakefield National Memorial Association is raising funds by public subscription to rebuild it on the original site (see illustration, page 627). Exhaustive research and a careful survey of the ruins have revealed much information about the structure of the house, and the officers of this patriotic association hope to have a replica ready for dedication on February 22, 1932, the bi-centennial of Washington's birth.

Among the most interesting features of the estate to the hundreds of thousands who annually make the pilgrimage to Mount Vernon are the venerable attendants at the tomb, who long ago learned that the impression they made on visitors was in direct ratio to their proclaimed length of service. As a matter of fact, none of them has been many years at the post, but one who does not proclaim himself a son or grandson of the original guardian is afflicted with a stunted imagination. Not so many years ago there was one dusky individual who claimed to have served the General in person!

No finer thrill of patriotism, no greater sense of pride and pleasure in being an American citizen, can be experienced than when one treads the sacred ground of Mount Vernon. Here the greatest American spent the happiest days of his life, and here he passed to the Great Beyond.

Every vessel that passes up and down the Potomac tolls its bell as it glides past this hallowed spot, and the heart of every American beats faster and truer as he does homage at the tomb of the Father of Our Country.

Washington has taken his place in history as one of the immortals; yet it was a very lovable, a very human Washington who lived at Mount Vernon. There, relaxed from the cares of state and of military leadership, he was simply George Washington-genial host, generous neighbor, and affectionate husband.

T

HIS is how it came about. It had become our habit to take our vacations seriously, their function being by complete change of scene and surroundings to restore a feather edge to jaded mentalities.

The vacation list since the World War has included-usually in a furnished house of our own, from which to radiate in all directions-the island of Nantucket; the Rocky Mountains in Colorado; Ilfracombe, north Devonshire, England; Lake Champlain, New York; motoring in Nova Scotia; the Zea Droom (Sea Dream) Cottage, near Alkmaar, Netherlands; Cape Cod, and an English rectory, 39 miles southeast of London, on the Thames.

On our return from this last English vacation two friends suggested that next time we should secure a house sufficiently large to accommodate a family of ten, and to syndicate the expense.

Thus, in due course of time, we found ourselves installed in a quaint old Tudor Manor House on the Thames eight miles below Oxford. The family syndicate consisted of Mr. and Mrs. B., to whom, alas, the fates were unkind, for at the last moment it was decreed that Mr. B. should not leave the purlieus of Broadway; Mr. and Mrs. L. and their charming daughters, most excellent pals; our kinswoman, Mrs. E., and her fine daughter, without whom our holiday could not have been half the success it was, and our own family group of four-ten in all.

DINING IN THE HALL WHERE SHEEP

STEALERS WERE FORMERLY HUNG The old house was a dream of interest; its five Tudor gables, quaintly carved, the front stuccoed in a warm cream color, partly covered with climbing jasmine and nodding roses, welcomed us with rare hospitality, as we slipped down the entrance avenue between clipped yews and found ourselves pulling the bell chain at the mailed oak front door (see page 630).

The oldest part of the house, the banqueting hall, was built in 1480, before Columbus sailed west. The dust of centuries has raised the ground level, so that now one must step down to enter. Here

the Lord of the Manor was wont to meet with and dine his retainers, fraternize with them at least during the first course, after which he retired to the withdrawing (drawing) room by the stairs under the minstrel gallery (see illustration, page 632). We can fancy meanwhile musicians in their gallery, with drum, fiddle, and pipe, providing music.

In this room justice was administered, and if the finger locks and man-traps, or the gallows, which the present owner demolished a few years ago, were indications, "it" was coming to the offender found guilty. The Lord of the Manor had absolute power over the lives of his retainers, and he was held responsible by his sovereign for their actions. Sheep stealers were summarily hung, sometimes over the beam which now carries the acetylene chandelier.

The younger members of the family looked for ghosts, but the nearest they came to finding them was a dungeon, which Junior discovered.

The modern part of the house was built in the Elizabethan era. The oak floors, highly polished and slippery, are on different levels, indicating various extensions, and one literally has to watch his step. The house contains a wealth of old furniture, books, tapestries, carvings, pictures, and curios. Indeed, we were wont to write our friends that we were living in a British museum.

The staff of inside servants, six in number, were thoroughly efficient and polite. Indeed, the service and table were as good as in any hotel we know. The gardeners were provided in the rent. The climate is highly favorable to vegetation; showers fall about every ten minutes! In Reading I noted the bronze statue of a member of a well-known firm of biscuit manufacturers, represented in frock coat, top hat, and with an umbrella under his arm.

The Manor gardens occupied, perhaps, 20 acres and were laid out with rare skill, and while not kept up to perfection, they were a continual joy.

Through a pergola, passing a fountain, under giant trees, we enter the wilderness garden, a tangle of beautiful shrubbery,