Yews fantastically clipped, statues, vases, classical urns, and especially its profusion of annuals, made this three-acre garden a continual source of delight. Photographs from George Alden Sanford THESE YEW TREES ARE OLDER THAN MAGNA CHARTA The wide-spreading branches of these 800-year-old trees are so long and heavy as to touch the ground unless propped up. It was John Evelyn who pointed out the possibilities of the cut and clipped yew for ornamentation purposes, and many grotesque and geometrical forms now adorn English gardens. To Englishmen of old the yew held an important place in folklore, and also provided tough wood for the famous English bow, which overthrew the armored knights of feudalism at Poitiers in 1356. THE IRON SCREEN OF THE BOWLING GREEN After tea, many an English country gentleman still enjoys his game of bowls. Archery excepted, this is the oldest English outdoor sport which has held a certain degree of popularity since the 13th century. hornbeam hedges. At the height of the season we could have gathered 500 madonna lilies with plenty left over. The splendid tennis courts came next. They were always the rendezvous of the young people. The broom walk led up to the Japanese garden, at the head of which was a thatched oak summerhouse. A causeway over a canal from the Thames, a pagoda, and bronze figures were among the attractions of this garden. Then the river garden, given over to aquatic plants. Next the rose gardens, with perhaps ten thousand blooms when we arrived; indeed, the air was heavy with their perfume. In the twilight, which meant up until 9:30 p. m., the river was gay with brightly dressed young people in skiffs, canoes, punts, and other craft, some carrying portable phonographs, for "canned" music is a popular feature of river sport. We had our own boathouse and swimming dock. The water of the river is clear and clean.* Life at the Manor, while not exciting, *See, also, "Through the Heart of England in a Canadian Canoe," by R. J. Evans, in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE for May, 1922. was delightful. Lovely walks abound and one soon acquires the walking habit, Some of the family walked daily to Abingdon, a most interesting old ecclesiastical town, two and a half miles distant; some to Oxford, eight miles away. Interesting villages lie in almost every direction, and we found the utmost courtesy everywhere. RYE AND CANTERBURY ARE LURES There was Willie, our car, the meter of which showed nearly 4,000 miles on those perfect roads, and their succession of delights, architectural and historical. We joined the pilgrims to go to Canterbury and wended our way there via motor, as would have astonished our predecessors "the knighte, the millere, the reeve, the prioress," et al. If architecture is frozen music, Canterbury Cathedral is a symphony. We love it best of all the English cathedrals. The towns by the wayside are fascinating. For instance, Rye, left high and dry by the receding sea, itself one of the old Cinque Ports, quaint and medieval. The narrow streets wind up, like threads of a screw, to the summit, where stands the attractive church; angels come out and Photograph from George Alden Sanford FLAMINGOS IN THE RIVER GARDEN Given over to aquatic plants, the river garden is a unique feature of the 20 acres of gardens surrounding the Manor. strike the hours, while the long, gilded clock pendulum swings in the open church to remind the people that time flies. Oxford is a magnet. While its numerous colleges are fascinating, I can only think of those great men who were here trained to make an impact on the world. We rode to Devon, to Lincoln, to Cornwall-east, west, north, south we went, always reveling in scenery and memories. In the Dukeries we were fortunate in securing entrée to Clumber House, as the Duke of Newcastle was not then in residence. Our greatest art galleries have nothing finer than the contents of this sumptuous home, much of the furnishings and art the gifts of kings. We incidental travelers were permitted to see and enjoy this wonderful place just because the owner, like many Englishmen, is a man with a democratic heart. In every city or town there is a War Cross. From the great Cenotaph near Trafalgar Square, in London, where a hundred thousand men pass daily with uncovered heads, to the tiniest hamlet, all have been stricken. In Little Wittenham, a village of a dozen houses, we read on the War Cross, "To the glory of God and in memory of Charles Young, of this village, who died in defense of his country, and to all the soldiers of Great Britain who laid down their lives, this memorial is erected." In Paddington Station, London, there is a bronze "Tommy" inscribed to the memory of 27,000 employees of the Great Western Railway who fought, more than 10 per cent of whom never came back. There was London,* a wilderness of interest, only an hour distant by express. But, like all things, our vacation passed far too quickly and happily away; so let us close this story in the long English twilight, walking through the gardens heavy with perfume. The rooks across the way in the ancient abbey grounds are talking sleepily. The heavy front door is closed, but a pull of the chain gives us admission, and we proceed to the brightly lighted drawing-room with a fire on the hearth, the young people about the grand piano. Thus we love to remember this vacation. As a matter of mundane interest, I may say that the cost was about seven dollars a day per person, transatlantic crossings not included. Herbert Corey, in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC *See, also, "London from a Bus Top," by MAGAZINE for May, 1926. THE COPYRIGHT. 1928. BY NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY, WASHINGTON D. C.. IN THE UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN SO BIG TEXAS BY FREDERICK SIMPICH AUTHOR OF "THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI FLOOD OF 1927," "MISSOURI, MOTHER OF THE WEST," "ALONG Our Side With Illustrations from Photographs by Clifton Adams, Staff Photographer NCE upon a time Texas was the butt of much crude humor. "If I owned Texas and Hades," General Sheridan was quoted as saying, "I'd rent Texas and move to the other place." Another ancient gibe, thought funny in its day, affirmed that we should chastise Mexico once more and make her take Texas back again. But modern Texas-big, fat, bluff and breezy-listens with a smile to tales of her turbulent youth. Power and political experience have taught her tolerance. In her easy-going, slightly Mexican manner, she is too busy working out her own social problems and her huge economic destiny to worry over her past, sensational though it may have been. A FREE AND INDEPENDENT NATION FOR NINE YEARS Undeniably, early Texas was turbulent. In a physical sense, also, she was tough. She had to be to conquer, singlehanded, the whole Republic of Mexico when it comprised much of our Southwest and all of California. Amazing political endurance was also hers. For nine uneasy years she held her own, a free and independent nation. In this period France and England even sent duly accredited representatives to the government of President Sam Houston. Paddling up Buffalo Bayou, wandering overland in oxcarts, these dainty diplomats sought the crude frontier capital. There, donning their plush pants and silver swords, they waded knee-deep in honest Texas mud to the humble "palace" wherein functioned the brawling government of the Lone Star Republic. Sam Houston, tradition says, received them, clad likewise in the peacock finery of diplomatic dress, and then excused himself to go outside and stop a quarrel between two of his colleagues. To-day, in odd contrast, France and England again send agents to Texas. But they are plain-clothes trade emissaries, coming to buy that cotton of which she grows from a fifth to a third of the whole world's supply. And now, instead of log cabins or adobe huts, there are the sky-piercing "cloudscratchers" of Dallas (see illustration, page 678), a 1,000-room hotel in Houston, and a market service so perfect that a cablegram about cotton has been sent from Texas to Liverpool and a reply received in three minutes. As for Buffalo Bayou, now it is a great ship canal, deeply dredged, so that ocean steamers dock at Houston, 50 miles inland, as at another Hamburg (see illustration, page 668). I repeat, time was when Texas had to to be tough, physically speaking. In prerailroad days it took hardy men to drive 10,000,000 cattle "up the trail" to Kansas and Wyoming, swimming rivers, fighting Indians and blizzards, living for months "on the country." Even now a few of |