f the palace; with good store too of the
lily-bosomed models of Lely and Kneller. The whole tone of this
processional interior is singularly stale and sad. The tints of all
things have both faded and darkened--you taste the chill of the place
as you walk from room to room. It was still early in the day and in
the season, and I flattered myself that I was the only visitor. This
complacency, however, dropped at sight of a person standing motionless
before a simpering countess of Sir Peter Lely's creation. On hearing
my footstep this victim of an evaporated spell turned his head and I
recognised my fellow lodger of the Red Lion. I was apparently recognised
as well; he looked as if he could scarce wait for me to be kind to him,
and in fact didn't wait. Seeing I had a catalogue he asked the name of
the portrait. On my satisfying him he appealed, rather timidly, as to my
opinion of the lady.

"Well," said I, not quite timidly enough perhaps, "I confess she strikes
me as no great matter."

He remained silent and was evidently a little abashed. As we strolled
away he stole a sidelong glance of farewell at his leering shepherdess.
To speak with him face to face was to feel keenly that he was no less
interesting than infirm. We talked of our inn, of London, of the palace;
he uttered his mind freely, but seemed to struggle with a weight of
depression. It was an honest mind enough, with no great cultivation but
with a certain natural love of excellent things. I foresaw that I
should find him quite to the manner born--to ours; full of glimpses and
responses, of deserts and desolations. His perceptions would be fine and
his opinions pathetic; I should moreover take refuge from his sense of
proportion in his sense of humour, and then refuge from THAT, ah me!--in
what? On my telling him that I was a fellow citizen he stopped short,
deeply touched, and, silently passing his arm into my own, suffered me
to lead him through the other apartments and down into the gardens. A
large gravelled platform stretches itself before the basement of the
palace, taking the afternoon sun. Parts of the great structure are
reserved for private use and habitation, occupied by state-pensioners,
reduced gentlewomen in receipt of the Queen's bounty and other deserving
persons. Many of the apartments have their dependent gardens, and here
and there, between the verdure-coated walls, you catch a glimpse of
these somewhat stuffy bowers. My companion and I measu