It is unfair to place these humble beginnings of American Renaissance beside such highly developed architecture, for example, as English “Country Life” exploits week after week, under its heading of “Country Homes, Gardens, Old and New” as to make one believe that England must have an unlimited store for the magazine to draw upon. And this is all the more remarkable because one’s recollection of English landscape as it reveals itself through windows of the railway carriages along the main routes of travel--especially along the Great Eastern road from London to Kings Lynn--distinguishes it little from that uninteresting stretch of country which lies between Trenton and New Brunswick on the Pennsylvania railroad. Evidently, all these magnificent halls were erected long before the advent of railways, and are in no way affiliated with the vulgar wake of commercialism. Accessibility, which governs so largely in America, must be a matter of supreme indifference to possessors of great estates in England, or, it seems to me, the railway lines would meander in such a manner as closely to skirt the confines of a magnificent demesne, occasionally. It is unfair to a country whose visible architectural development is barely two centuries old to bring it in contrast with one where no building is really ancient without a history dating backward three or four hundred years, at least. We, perhaps, fancy we have in America some modern country estates quite worth while mentioning and which might easily withstand the odious ordeal of comparison; but can the reader name one in the same category with such a country seat as is illustrated in “Country Life” for July 12, 1902, described as “Osmaston Manor, Derbyshire” (Plate XXVI)?--and this is a number of the periodical picked up without especial selection--“Biltmore,” in the North Carolina mountains, possibly, with the H. W. Poor house at Tuxedo, New Jersey, as an alternate choice, one French PLATE XX. [Illustration: “Extremely humble, yet genteel.” DOORWAY, PHILADELPHIA CLUB. 13th and Walnut Streets.] Renaissance, the other Jacobean. But certainly, Newport, with its miserable crowding and elbowing of American pretentiousness, much of the pretentiousness belonging to the modern invention type of architecture, offers no comparison at all. The Hunnewell gardens and some others we have seen photographed and discussed of late look more like tree nurseries than Renaissance gardens, while nearly all the modern American show places illustrated from time to time in the different magazines deal only with that primitive kind of splendor indigenous to provinces.