“Weep, thou, for me in France, I for thee here;
Go count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans.”
And when they had that lawsuit of theirn (he gittin’ after another woman, and wantin’ to git rid of her), after he’d bought off the jedge, Katharine sez to Henry—liftin’ her right arm up towards Heaven—
“There sits a Jedge no king can corrupt.”
Noble, misused creeter! I’ll bet if them beads could have told what wuz said over ’em, they would have said that Henry thought of her, his lawful wife, when his memory wuz sick of recallin’ Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. But to resoom.
We see the bed that George II. died in. The chairs and footstools used by George III. and his queen. And the two chairs used by William IV. and Queen Adelaide at their coronation. And then we see the most beautiful tapestry that ever wuz made, and busts and statutes. Richly colored, priceless old china filled the splendid cabinets inlaid with finest mosaic work—in fact, the hull length of these rooms, openin’ into each other so that you could see their hull length of 550 feet, wuz full of the most costly and beautiful objects man ever made.
The oak floor wuz polished, and shone like a mirror.
The library wuz one hundred feet long of itself, with columns risin’ from floor to ceilin’ and a gallery runnin’ round it, and two more openin’ out of it, with alcoves of Spanish mahogany, these full of picters by Landseer and others, and medallions, etc., etc., etc., and full of the choicest literature of every land.
And then there wuz a private chapel that went ahead of any meetin’-house I ever see or ever expect to, all marble and spar and wonderful wood-carvin’s, and picters from the old masters filled it full of beauty and glory. Faith and Hope wuz there all carved out beautiful, so’s you could see ’em right before you, as well as feel ’em in your heart.
In the sculpter gallery is the most wonderful treasures, busts and statutes and mosaics, relicks from every land and age, and beautiful figgers, almost alive, by Canova, Powers, Thorwaldsen, Gibson, Bartolini, etc., etc. Some wuz presented by emperors and kings, and some on ’em bought by the Duke and his folks. The hull room, one hundred feet long, is full of the rarest treasures that can be collected; it made my brain fairly reel beneath my best bunnet to see the wealth of glory and beauty, and Al Faizi turned away from it a spell and looked thoughtfully out of the winder.