I have nothing of interest to record in the events of the next two or three years.

CHAPTER XVII
MILLARD’S HILL—TENBY—CHARLES YOUNG AND A COURT BALL

In the year 1840, my mother gave up the apartments she had so long occupied at Hampton Court Palace—the place having become intolerable to her since the death of her beloved and only brother, Mr Poyntz, who had died suddenly at his house on the Green. This bereavement determined her to accept the offer of her brother-in-law, Lord Cork, to take possession of a small house on his property in Somersetshire, called Millard’s Hill, an unostentatious building, in a very picturesque part of the county. We took great delight in furnishing and decorating the empty rooms with our pictures and china and “treasures from many lands”—in fact, in storing our household gods, without which, no house can ever be a home. Uncomely as was the exterior of the building, the situation and surroundings were very pretty—a perfect specimen of English field and woodland, and the neighbouring walks, rides and drives were delightful. Added to these, there was another charm in my eyes, the possibility (which was very difficult for us at Hampton Court) of having domestic pets—ponies, dogs—of many different kinds, and last, though not least, a beautiful peacock of gorgeous plumage, the present of my dear friend and close neighbour, the Duchess of Somerset. “Narcissus” was as proud and jealous as he was beautiful, but very tame, and would come in at the open window, of a summer’s morning, while we were at breakfast, and eat out of my hand. On one occasion, finding my Scotch terrier sitting beside me, he flew spitefully at the interloper, and pecked him so furiously as to drive him from the field. “Chaillach,” my trusty Skye,—whom I once described as something between Lord Rochester’s wig and a door-mat; who was never out of temper, and never out of mischief—the dauntless Chaillach, whose spirit never quailed before a mastiff or a blood-hound—to be put to confusion by a mere bird!

MILLARD’S HILL WITH “NARCISSUS” IN THE FOREGROUND.
From a Drawing by E. V. B.

Of Millard’s Hill and the days we passed there, I shall have to say more in a future page.[[38]] In 1842 I accompanied my mother, my two younger brothers, and my sister to the prettiest sea-side town I know—Tenby, in South Wales, rich in beetling cliffs, venerable old castles, picturesque manor houses, the fields and woods of which boasted of a flora of such varied character as to attract the notice and admiration of botanists as unscientific as ourselves. Here we were joined, to the enhancement of every pleasure, by a beautiful girl and fast friend, who shared in all our pursuits inside the house and all our excursions abroad, whom I will designate here by the name of Fanny. I used to call her my damask-rose, on account of her brilliant colouring; she was at that time in the full bloom of early youth, and endowed with a high spirit, but scarcely seven years had passed from that time, ere I was called to shed bitter tears over her tragical and untimely end.

[38]. See Chapter XXV.

In one of our excursions from Tenby, we visited Stackpole, a charming residence of the Earl of Cawdor, where many years later I became a guest, to assist at the marriage of a dear nephew with one of the fair daughters of that noble house, and to contract a real friendship with the kind and genial representative of Shakespeare’s Thane.

“BAL COSTUMÉ”