present and of the past formed
one living and unbroken tissue. A strange example of this fact revealed
itself to me when, wandering in a rough courtyard, I noticed a little
building which jutted out over a precipice. I opened the door, and
discovered a Lilliputian chapel with seats in it for some twenty
people. Facing me was an altar trimmed with decaying lace and supporting
a mildewed breviary, and before it, in full armor, with gauntleted hands
outstretched, was the effigy of a kneeling knight. He had knelt there as
an image of prayer for more than three centuries. When sightseeing was
over, and we descended to the world below, my excellent servant said to
me, "Ah, sir, if these trees could talk, what strange things they could
tell us!" Resuming our journey that evening, we reached Gratz by
midnight, where I slept in a lofty bedroom of the days of Maria Theresa.
By the following afternoon I was at Koermend, drinking tea with the
Princess, and answering her many questions--for she was an unappeasable
gossip--about old English friends.

The castle of Koermend lies in a great plain. On one side of it is a park
planted in radiating alleys, according to the taste of Le Notre. On the
opposite side its precincts abut on the market place of a small town,
and from the south and north it is approached by two poplar avenues
which together traverse the Batthyany territory for something like
thirty miles in an absolutely straight line. The dwelling house is a
large, square block, with a courtyard in the middle and a tower at each
angle. One of its frontages forms the side of a forecourt flanked by
grandiose outbuildings--estate offices, stables, and a great frescoed
ballroom. Elsewhere round the house was a very untidy flower garden,
which half the old women of the little town spent, so it seemed to me,
most of their days in weeding--herein reviving my recollections of
Dartington Hall and Denbury. Indeed, throughout my whole stay at Koermend
country life in Hungary was constantly reminding me of what country life
was during my own early days in Devonshire. These likenesses gave
piquancy to the points of difference. Koermend, though containing a good
deal of English furniture, and a certain amount of valuable, if not very
valuable, tapestry, was not well furnished according to English
standards. The stonework of the great staircase leading to the principal
floor was unpolished and rude, and the walls were rudely whitewashed. My
own