proved a great success; that, however, may largely be due to the abnormal summer of 1909. Even a plant like P. involucrata var. Munroi, which is commonly treated as a bog plant, has been quite satisfactory. It should never be omitted, both for the sake of its beauty and fragrance, and for the interest attaching to its introduction into England. Close to it is P. frondosa, nearly akin to our own native mealy primrose; then comes P. capitata, giving us its glorious purple heads of bloom through August and September. On the sunny side, in a soil largely made up of grauite chips, is the dainty P. minima. P. marginata is planted between two rocks in limestone and strong loam; its leaves, with their narrow edging of silvery powder, are very attractive, as well as their bluishlilac flowers. P. integrifolia is also a lime-lover; it has smooth leaves with fringed edges and lilac-rose blooms. P. Allionii has flowers, mauve with a white eye; it requires more or less the treatment of a Ramondia in that it will not tolerate water settling on its leaves. P. tirolensis is as beautiful, and far easier to grow. P. spectabilis, not unworthy of its name, does well on limestone and gravel in half-shade among rocks.

The Primulæ naturally lead one on to the Androsaces: no attempt has as yet been made here to grow those that are admittedly difficult, but A. sarmentosa, A. lanuginosa, A. villosa, A. sempervivoides, and A. Chumbyi certainly lend themselves to this sort of position. The two first, planted near the edge, form a very pretty picture as they hang down draping the wood-work, and indeed, all along the edge such plants should be used as have naturally a drooping habit; Arenaria montana is also suitable; still better is Potentilla nitida, with its gray leaves and cherrypink flowers, and its variety alba. while on the shady side our beautiful

little native, Wahlenbergia hederacea, the "blue-flowered shamrock," Parochetus communis, Tropaolum speciosum and many others will readily suggest themselves. A friend has suggested that holes also might be cut in the upper planks and suitable plants inserted; those on the sunny side would be such plants as Capparis spinosa, which one sees so often growing out of a wall in Italy, or the little Woodruff from Mount Athos, Asperula suberosa, or. Coronilla iberica, while the Haberleas and Ramondias and Saxifraga Cotyledon would be grateful for the shade afforded on the north side. By these two methods a great deal might be done to minimize the undoubtedly ugly look of the frame. Where stone is

cheap, it would be in every way better to use that material.

To return to the plants. No one would dream of leaving out from such a bed such treasures as the Greek Anemone, A. blanda, with its rare double form, if he is fortunate enough to possess it, or our own "Pasque Flower" A. pulsatilla, and its even more beautiful variety A. p. alba. When at Piora in June I hunted for seedlings of A. vernalis and A. alpina, and brought them back. They never flagged for a moment, and, helped by the showery weather, they bid fair to overtake plants a year older than themselves. What a pity it is that those who collect plants on their rambles so seldom content themselves with seedlings, or, still better, with seeds. Were this the rule, English gardens would be far richer in Alpines, and much disappointment would be avoided, to say nothing of the gain to the locality from which the plants were dug up.

In the case of the Dianthus family considerable reserve must be used, if monotony is to be avoided; the color of the flowers too is, in many cases, anything but attractive; but D. alpinus and D. neglectus must surely appeal to all.

flowers now at their best; Oxalis enneaphylla, which in its far distant home in the Falkland Islands falls in cascades of snowy whiteness over the sea cliffs; and Shortia uniflora, a glorified edition from Japan of that beautiful S. galacifolia, which eluded the search of some of the best botanists for the best part of a century.

I hope I have shown that in the frame described it is possible to grow such a collection of rare Alpines as The National Review.

would delight any gardener. A busy man, who can give but the evening to his garden, could here find plenty of pleasant occupation. By collecting and sowing the seed of the rare varieties he would soon have a most valuable stock, which he could exchange for such desiderata as he coveted, and as he gained experience he might perchance achieve the "blue riband" of the gardener and glory in the possession of a carpet of Eritrichium nanum.

A. C. Bartholomew.

The House of Commons has often been referred to in the past as the best club in the world, and I believe that this description of it remains true today, in spite of the criticism that the entrance fee is far too high and the annual subscription is exorbitant. Truly every man who becomes an M.P. is a poorer man in consequence, if he pays his own election expenses and is returned to represent a large county division; but just consider what advantages there are quite outside the pleasure of sharing in the public work of the country-in belonging to this interesting club of legislators. The ordinary man, no matter to which party he belongs, is brought into immediate contact with some of the best brains in the Empire, with men who have worldwide reputations as statesmen, scientists, lawyers, historians, financiers, and so on. He does not live apart from them; they become part of his daily surroundings; he sits by them on committees, and in the library; he smokes with them or walks with them on the terrace. It is a democratic institution this Imperial Club at Westminster; there is no stand-offishness about it; and the high attainments of Balfour and Lecky and Jebb, of Harcourt and Lubbock and Chamberlain,

of Morley and Sir Michael Foster and a hundred others, are put into the common pool and are within reach of all their fellow-members. Here, then, is "value received"; we stand in a sort of close relationship to the men who are doing great things for England outside the political arena; we rub shoulders daily with opponents whose personal and intellectual qualities we could never fully appreciate by merely reading or listening to their speeches, and the ensuing friendliness makes for a truer mutual understanding of men and their motives.

There

The outside public would hardly believe the camaraderie that exists inside the House of Commons in the intervals of fierce debates upon grave party issues; the gay intercourse of leading political rivals in the smoking room; the genial hospitality exchanged between the opposing camps at dinner. have been, even in my experience, several dining-clubs in the House run by members of one party whose guests were as often as not, their political opponents. At their weekly reunions the chaff was well mixed with the grain, and was equally well received. I remember one evening, some time before I entered the House-it was just after Mr. Gladstone had brought in

his Home Rule Bill, but before his denunciation of the Irish Party had faded from our memories-a certain gallant Admiral had just joined the group of diners and was receiving congratulations from all and sundry upon a speech which he had just delivered upstairs. Into their midst strode the burly form of Sir William Harcourt, who, in his cheeriest manner, offered his word of praise: "But to look at you, Charlie, nobody would take you for a statesman," he added. "Ah!” replied Lord Charles, beaming and breezy as usual, "appearances aren't everything: to look at you, Harcourt, nobody would take you for a weathercock." The picture suggested was so ridiculous that Sir William could not but lead the peal of laughter which followed.

In later years we had a merry little dining-club which the late Lord Salisbury nicknamed the "Hughligans" after his youngest son, who was one of that small but select body. Every Wednesday we used to dine together, and each member (we were five) invited one or two guests. Once assembled, they found themselves in a veritable Palace of Truth where friend and foe were criticised with uncompromising candor. It goes without saying that these evenings were exceedingly entertaining, for foreign and colonial statesmen, artists, pro-consuls and divines used to honor us with their presence, and all appeared to relish the atmosphere of happy independence in which we moved. It was at one of these dinners that a pundit from South Africa harangued us in very highly colored language upon the iniquities of "slavery"; but he was quite at loss for a repartee when he himself was accused, by one of the group, of being "a slave to his own phraseology"; and when, on another occasion, we were entertaining a young Minister who had just received his promotion, we all deplored the fact that he had thereby lost

caste as a man of independent thought, only fit to be described as a "stipendiary echo"; the phrase then coined is now in common circulation.

Perhaps the most memorable of our dinners was one in 1901, after a heated debate in the House about the detention in South Africa of a journalist named Cartwright. In the course of the discussion the "Hughligans" were divided, some supporting and the others denouncing the Government of the day. In the evening Mr. Chamberlain was our only guest, and I well remember him saying, almost before we had sat down to dinner, "Why on earth don't you young men join to force some big question to the front, such as a reform of our Fiscal System and Preference for the Colonies ?" He then proceeded to develop the idea at some length and, a few years afterwards, he reminded me that this was the first time he had ever mentioned "Tariff Reform" inside the walls of the House of Commons. It was on the same evening that he asked whether the "Hughligans" had a motto; in a moment Hugh Cecil replied: "Yes; 'Purity, Parsimony, and the Persian Gulf"-referring to the subjects which were especially interesting to Winston Churchill, Percy and himself. "Oh," said Mr. Chamberlain, not having forgotten our attack on the Government a few hours before, "I should have thought it was 'Profligacy, Personality, and the Press.'" One other good mot may be recalled here, which we owe to Mr. Lloyd George. Some one was praising him to his face as a charming companion, with the sole defect that he was "the arch-enemy of the land and the Church," to which he sweetly replied, "Indeed, that is a very large indictment: to call me the foe of this world and the next."

Another privilege to be gained, besides good company and amusing dinners. by election to "the best club in

the world," is the certainty of a good seat in the theatre when most thrilling scenes are being enacted upon the political stage. Of course there are hours and weeks of weariness, but these are more than compensated by the great moments when a brilliant speech is being delivered, or an epoch-making Budget is being disclosed, or a life-anddeath division is anticipated. Many and varied as are the types of men represented in the Commons it would be difficult to name one who is not moved by such incidents; and the collective tension created by these individual emotions is responsible for that peculiar phenomenon (well known to M.P.'s and Parliamentary correspondents) when "the lobby is charged with electricity." Of lesser moment, yet very entertaining, are those passages of thrust and parry across the table between two masters of debate, and the subtle rebuke which is occasionally administered from high places in language that is polished and sharpened like a rapier. Recent instances of this occur to me, amongst many that I have heard, and they include Mr. Asquith's charming reference to two colleagues "who are happy in their command of variegated language," as well as Mr. Balfour's criticism of a Minister who had delivered a speech prepared in reply to a line of attack which was expected from, but not developed by, the Opposition. The ex-Prime Minister prefaced his remarks by saying that "the Right Hon. gentleman had indeed discharged his siege guns, but had trained them upon a road down which, unhappily, the enemy did not travel. Might he be permitted, without offence, to suggest that in future the artillery should be more mobile in character." I suppose, however, that the most famous of these Parliamentary castigations was delivered about a century ago to a "red republican” in the House, who declared that he did not care

whether the King or the Devil was on the Throne: to which the then Prime Minister replied: "When the Hon. gentleman sees the monarch of his choice seated upon the throne of this realm he will certainly obtain the favor, as he will deserve the confidence, of his Sovereign."

The smoking-room of the House is also prolific of stories and "good things," but they are usually told or said in such an atmosphere of hurry and rush that the best of them are easily forgotten. That, at any rate, is my experience and, as I write, I must confess to keeping only two of them engraved upon the tablets of memory. One evening two young Irish members were overheard discussing in tones of indignation the details of an intrigue to dismiss Mr. Speaker which they had just discovered.

"I was standing." said one of them, "in the Lobby, and I saw Harcourt and Balfour in earnest conversation."

"Indeed, and could you hear what they were saying?"

"I could. They were deciding on the best way of getting the Speaker out of the Chair before seven o'clock. Now, wasn't that mean?"

Perhaps I should explain for the benefit of those who are ignorant of the House of Commons terminology that the phrase "getting the Speaker out of the Chair" means resolving the House ito a Committee over which another Chairman, not Mr. Speaker, presides; and the two eminent statesmen were really arranging the ordinary business of the House in the usual way.

And I remember, too, a delightful saying of Mr. Labouchere, when he was being chaffed about the subtle ingenuity of Mr. Gladstone in debate on a particular occasion when the Prime Minister had scored a victory over his somewhat erratic supporter. Said he "Oh, none of us mind the fact that the G.O.M. has his sleeve full of unexpected