Her Grace, who had retired early, was off in the first quiet sleep she had enjoyed for months, when she was thrown into violent hysterics by the discharge of cannon in quick succession--one, of course, the military evening gun, but the loudest was the Admiral’s. It was Sunday. Their Graces could not get away; another such discharge, he believed, would kill his wife--a repetition was not to be thought of; if I could put a stop to the daylight gun; and I had no doubt my friend Sir Charles Staveley would stop the military one. By early morning the Duke and Duchess were out of hearing. Now there was a factory within hearing, whose workmen went in on the firing of the Admiral’s gun. The factor, instead of coming to me to explain, reported direct to the Admiralty. I received an order not to omit the usual daylight gun. On foreign stations daylight is not “made” until the event is first reported to the Admiral. Communicated with my Flag-Captain Heneage. Daylight was “made” at very irregular times. I heard no more from the factor! [Sidenote: 1875.] My sailor’s life has come to an end: my land one must shortly. To describe all the hospitalities and fun I enjoyed during the command at Devonport, and the three-and-twenty years that have elapsed since the flag was hauled down for the last time, would fill many volumes. I have only space to mention the names of some who were kind to me during the latter part of my sailor’s life. First comes the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, whose kind hospitality and the run of whose beautiful grounds caused time to pass only too quickly. Lord St. Germans of Port Elliot: I remember the first time I had the pleasure of shooting over his beautiful covert of hanging woods. Charlie Edgcumbe told me the keeper was anxious to see my ammunition. My predecessor had used ball cartridges from his ship’s magazine to the danger of beaters. At Helligon, was my good friend Tremayne. Saltram was occupied by the kind and hospitable Hartmanns. He, alas! no more. They had frequently with them the Marquis de Jeancourt, who once kept a stud at Melton Mowbray, the handsome Marquise charming, and so like her sister, the hostess. The Master of Hounds when I first arrived was Mr. Trelawney, the finest specimen of a sportsman I ever saw; of him there are published descriptions. I attended the opening and finishing of his hunt dinners. He was succeeded by Admiral Parker of Delamore, whose two cheery daughters frequently led the field.