[Sidenote: Oct. 20.] At sunset landed with the other passengers by pilot vessel at Portsmouth--one hundred and seventeen days from Madras. CHAPTER XII ENGLAND [Sidenote: 1833. October.] At what time of the year is England not enjoyable! My father had taken 12 Berkeley Square, which had an excellent dining-room. He had also the Stud House in the Home Park. My kind host of many years, the Duke of Sussex, was on a visit to Lord Dinorben. [Sidenote: Oct. 25.] An invitation from Colonel and Mrs. Grey--she was a sister of Lady Dinorben--and an offer of mounts, besides the probability of meeting my father, decided me on going to Brighton. I found the Greys such a bright and cheery family. On our returning, after my first day with the harriers, Colonel Grey spotted royal outriders. We had only time to pull up and off hats when the King passed. On getting home, I found an invitation to dine at the Pavilion, where I was glad to meet my father, who seemed to enjoy his active life. There were fine buildings in Calcutta, but the Pavilion beat them. Both Majesties were present. They must have noticed my nervousness, and were kind in proportion. The dining-hall was a magnificent room. High up in each corner were huge golden dragons that appeared to float, but how supported I could not make out. As my kind host and hostess showed no signs of being bored, and my mounts appeared rather to improve, I held on to my comfortable quarters. [Sidenote: Nov.] One morning, when strolling near the Pavilion, I observed His Majesty at the front-door, wrapped up for a drive, probably to enjoy the open downs. I disappeared behind a projection from which I could not retreat. After a few minutes the carriage drove up, coachman in plain clothes, no other servant. Before His Majesty got in, he addressed the coachman in strong naval language. The man showed no more symptoms of vitality than if he were a coat stuffed with straw. The King, after more nautical expressions, shook his fist, and told the coachman that he would report him to the Master of the Horse--a threat His Majesty did not carry out. Although the Duke of Sussex had recently returned to London, he was too fond of shooting to miss a good day at Holkham, where a party had assembled--woodcocks in plenty--and I accompanied him. Beyond the hour and place of meet, there was no particular arrangement. I was in the carriage with the Duke, and a good deal of firing was going on when we arrived at the covert side. His Royal Highness had a new shooting-coat, with pockets enough to hold many birds. While getting out of the carriage, a shower of shot descended on the Prince’s hat and coat. He was excited, and seemed anxious to find out who the culprit was. [Sidenote: Nov 23.] Luckily, I had not left the carriage, but my nephew, Archie MacDonald, was not far off, and it was in vain he tried to assure His Royal Highness that his gun had not been fired.