own palatial Canadian residences; all appear a thing of yesterday as compared with that stately edifice, with its delightful lawns, walks and avenues, which bear the ancient impress of their date and of their early greatness. No doubt these paths were trod by men in the troublous times of Henry VIII. and his three children, men who then may have debated mooted points of history in this very neighbourhood. There is a tradition also that the virgin Queen has looked upon this same landscape “in maiden meditation fancy free.” The morning was peculiarly fine, and as I opened the window to admit the pure, fresh air I really breathed again to enjoy it, and inhale the perfume of foliage and of the garden flowers; flowers whose ancestors may have traced three centuries of life, at least the early known plants indigenous to English soil; while those of foreign origin could boast of sires, perhaps, the first of their genus brought from the Continent. The air was vocal with music; the trees seemed peopled with scores of blackbirds and mavis, and there was many a proverbial “early bird” busy with the yet earlier worm, who had gained so little by his rising. All nature seemed teeming with life and gladness. I can only here acknowledge the courtesy I received from my host and hostess. The hours passed away unclouded by the slightest shadow, and I know no more pleasant memory than that of my visit to this English ancestral home. I was highly pleased, on my return to Batt’s Hotel, to receive intimation that my daughter was shortly to join me in London. There is a certain solitude in a London hotel, which is much the opposite of the continental life, and entirely distinct from the _table d’hote_ system of this continent. In England the desire is to secure extreme quiet and privacy, while on this side of the Atlantic every auxiliary is provided for publicity and freedom of movement. This is especially the case in the United States. In Canada it may be said that a middle course is taken. In many large hotels on this continent, in addition to the drawing and breakfast rooms, parlours and halls and writing and news rooms are open, where papers are furnished and sold, seats at the theatre obtained, telegrams sent, books, especially cheap editions of novels, purchased, with photographs of the professional beauties, leading politicians and other celebrated people. All of these places are marked by busy, bustling life. The dining room, from its opening in the morning till a late hour at night, is one scene of animation, be the meal what it may. Some of the _beau sexe_ even visit the breakfast room with elaborate toilets, and many a pair of earrings glitter in the sun’s early rays. A walk up and down the wide passage or hall at any hour is proper and regular, and it is stated that it is often the only exercise indulged in by many living in the great hotels of the United States, the street car furnishing the invariable means of locomotion. In the large cities the hotels