Mr. Gould's nature before his life took on its acquired thirst for gold. When that thirst was in a measure satiated he turned again to his fundamental instincts and his great conservatory was the result.
Yet in the summer months Mr. Gould found much pleasure in his open-air garden. It was a big affair, guiltless of weeds, yet it is doubtful if Mr. Gould ever weeded his own potato patch or hoed his own turnips. There were beds for cantaloupes and watermelon, cucumbers, peas, beans, parsley, spinach, carrots, beets, lettuce and cauliflower, and Mr. Gould knew just where to find everything. For a short time every day he would walk through the garden, and doubtless dream of his old barefoot, boyhood days when he looked after his mother's garden in Delaware county. He was a sort of intermittent farmer and seemed to find a transitory pleasure in everything that pertained to a farm. There was nothing in common, however, between Mr. Gould's luxurious style of farming and that of the everyday horny-handed knight of the pitchfork and plow.
His barnyards and meadows, situated some distance from the conservatory, contained innumerable blooded stock. There were 50 cows, 25 horses, a span of oxen, 3 bulls, over a thousand chickens, 200 ducks and 500 pigeons, besides half a dozen deer. This gave the entire estate a farmlike aspect that was very pleasing to Mr. Gould. Over two hundred and fifty tons of hay were harvested in the fields of Lyndhurst every year. Mr. Gould took great pleas-
