The private apartments of the
family were not shown us. I should think it impossible for the owner of
this house to imbue it with his personality to such a degree as to feel
it to be his home. It must be like a small lobster in a shell much too
large for him.
After seeing what was to be seen of the rooms, we visited the gardens, in
which are noble conservatories and hot-houses, containing all manner of
rare and beautiful flowers, and tropical fruits. I noticed some large
pines, looking as if they were really made of gold. The gardener
(under-gardener I suppose he was) who showed this part of the spectacle
was very intelligent as well as kindly, and seemed to take an interest in
his business. He gave S----- a purple everlasting flower, which will
endure a great many years, as a memento of our visit to Eaton Hall.
Finally, we took a view of the front of the edifice, which is very fine,
and much more satisfactory than the interior,--and returned to Chester.
We strolled about under the unsavory Rows, sometimes scudding from side
to side of the street, through the shower; took lunch in a confectioner's
shop, and drove to the railway station in time for the three-o'clock
train. It looked picturesque to see two little girls, hand in hand,
racing along the ancient passages of the Rows; but Chester has a very
evil smell.
At the railroad station, S----- saw a small edition of "Twice-Told
Tales," forming a volume of the Cottage Library; and, opening it, there
was the queerest imaginable portrait of myself,--so very queer that we
could not but buy it.
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