6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY [CHAP. i. 



laneously acquired. One way or other there were occasional 

 breaks by pleasant episodes such as picnics, on fine 

 summer days, to one of the many old ruined castles, or 

 disused little Monmouthshire churches, or Roman remains 

 in the neighbourhood, where my father worked up the 

 material for some forthcoming archaeological essay and my 

 mother executed some of her beautiful sketches (plate vi.). 

 The carriage-load of young ones enjoyed themselves exceed- 

 ingly, and prevented the work from becoming monotonous or 

 burdensome. And there were joyful days before and after 

 going from home, and now and then, when it was impos- 

 sible for my mother to give her morning up to the work, if 

 she had not appointed one of the elder of the young fry her 

 deputy for the occasion. I remember, too, that I took my 

 book in play hours, when and where I wished ; sometimes 

 on a fine summer afternoon the " where " might be sitting 

 on a horizontal bough of a large old Portugal laurel in the 

 garden. And I fancy that the perch in the fresh air, with 

 the green light shimmering round me, was as good for my 

 bodily health (by no means robust) as my entertaining little 

 book for my progress in reading. 



It was remarkable the small quantity of food which it was 

 at one time thought the right thing for ladies to take in 

 public. I suppose from early habit, my mother, who was 

 active both in body and mind, used to eat very little. At 

 lunch she would divide a slice of meat with me. Although 

 now the death, in her confinement, of the Princess 

 Charlotte, " the people's darling," which plunged the nation 

 in sorrow, is a thing only of history, yet it is on record how 

 she almost implored for more food, the special desire being 

 mutton chops. Though not in any way connected with the 

 Royal Family, my mother held in memory the unhappy 

 event from its consequences. Sir Richard Croft, whose 

 medical attentions had been so inefficient to the Princess, 

 was shortly after called to attend in a similar capacity on 

 Mrs. Thackeray, wife of Dr. Thackeray, then or after Provost 

 of King's College, Cambridge. For some reason or other he 

 left his patient for a while, and the story went that, finding 

 pistols in the room where he was resting, he shot himself. 

 Miss Cotton Mrs. Thackeray's sister was a friend of my 

 mother. Miss Thackeray, the infant who was ushered into 

 the world by the death of both her mother and the doctor, 

 survived, and in her young-lady days was particularly fond 

 of dancing ; and I have the remembrance of my first London 

 ball being at her aunt's house. 



