ute fidelity,
scenes from the life lived there during the times of the first two
Georges. One of these shows the milkmaids going home from their work
arrayed in striped petticoats, and carrying their milk pails on their
heads. Others show members of the family enjoying themselves in the
garden or setting out for a ride, while the clergyman of the parish, or
the chaplain, is pacing one of the walks in solitary meditation, with a
telescope under his arm.

At Lyme, in Cheshire, the ancient home of the Leghs, which owes its
present magnificence to Leone, the Georgian architect, by whom
Chatsworth was renovated, other pictures of a similar kind abound. In
the days of the first Lord Newton I visited Lyme frequently, and was
often late for breakfast because as I went through the passages I could
not detach myself from a study of these appealing records.

Of houses no less typical of the country life of England I can give a
further example without quitting the Cotswolds. I allude to
Sherborne--the late Lord Sherborne was one of my earliest friends--with
its two principal frontages enriched by Inigo Jones with clusters of
Corinthian columns--a house still happily remote from railways and
towering chimneys. The late Lady Sherborne, like the Duchess of
Cleveland at Raby, kept an album, to which, whenever she could, she
extorted a contribution in verse, or otherwise from her friends. My own
contribution on one occasion was this--it was written at the close of a
visit at Whitsuntide:

When June fevers London with riot,
I regretfully dream of the day
When shadow and sunshine and quiet
Were alive in your woodlands in May.

I remember your oaks and your beeches.
I remember the cuckoo's reply
To the ring dove that moaned where the reaches
Of the Windrush are blue with the sky.

Of country houses which I have known in Scotland I shall speak later, in
connection with extraneous incidents. Of such houses in Ireland, of
which I have known several, it will be enough to mention one. This is
Tullamore in County Down, the home of Strange, Lord Roden and Lady
Roden, to the latter of whom I have referred already. It is from my
visits at Tullamore that most of my knowledge of Ireland, such as it is,
is derived. For many successive years I spent at Tullamore most of the
early autumn. There were a few other old friends whom, in addition to
myself, Lady Roden was accustomed to ask for similar periods, w