dozens,
although, alas! they are yearly disappearing to make room for gay rows of
pert, upstart villas, whose tawdry flashiness ill replaces the sedate
respectability of their last-century predecessors. But, uncoveted by the
contractor's lawless eye, untouched by the builder's desecrating hand,
Walpole Lodge stands on, as it did a hundred years ago, hidden behind
the shelter of its venerable walls, and half smothered under masses of
wisteria and Virginia creeper. On the wall, in summer time, grow
countless soft green mosses, and brown, waving grasses. Thick masses of
yellow stonecrop and tufts of snapdragon crown its summit, whilst the
topmost branches of the long row of lime-trees within come nodding
sweet-scented greetings to the passers-by along the dusty high road
below.

But in the winter the wall is flowerless and the branches of the
lime-trees are bare, and within, in the garden, there are only the
holly-trees and the yew-hedge of the shrubbery walks, and the empty brown
flower-beds set in the faded grass. But winter and summer alike, old Lady
Kynaston holds her weekly receptions, and thither flock all the wit, and
the talent, and the fashion of London. In the summer they are garden
parties, in the winter they become evening receptions. How she manages it
no one can quite tell; but so it is, that her rooms are always crowded,
that no one is ever bored at her house, that people are always keen to
come to her, and that there are hundreds who would think it an effort to
go to other people's parties across the street who think it no trouble at
all to drive nearly to Richmond, to hers. She has the rare talent of
making society a charm in itself. No one who is not clever, or beautiful,
or distinguished in some way above his or her fellows ever gains a
footing in her drawing-rooms. Every one of any note whatever is sure to
be found there. There are savants and diplomatists, poets and painters,
foreign ambassadors, and men of science. The fashionable beauty is sure
to be met there side by side with the latest type of strong-minded woman;
the German composer, with the wild hair, whose music is to regenerate
the future, may be seen chatting to a cabinet minister; the most rising
barrister of the day is lingering by the side of a prima-donna, or
discoursing to an Eastern traveller. Old Lady Kynaston herself has
charming manners, and possesses the rare tact of making every one feel
at home and happy in her house.

It was n