On another occasion, a curate who depended upon her for the living on her estate, was cruelly persuaded to allow himself to be used as a sort of human firework display. He took his torture very philosophically, and was first tied up in tarpaulin from head to foot, and then covered with every imaginable kind of cracker, a large Catherine Wheel forming a centre piece to complete the scheme. When the fun began, he jerked and jumped, while the various fireworks ignited and exploded with terrific effect. Afterwards, refreshment was administered, and the company were so pleased at the courage he had shown that the men asked him at once to come and have a drink with them. Actually, Lady Meux was a kind-hearted and intelligent woman in her way; she used to organize "tea-fights" for the village children, and many acts of a generous nature are to be attributed to her; although perhaps her method of bestowing her gifts was sometimes a trifle eccentric. I was invited to stay at Theobald's Park with a sporting acquaintance. The attractions of the surroundings of this country house were somewhat unusual by reason of its menagerie, which contained a fine collection of animals, including a valuable tiger, and a museum full of old Roman curios, mummies, and innumerable curiosities, collected by Sir Henry Meux, who was himself a connoisseur of antiquities. We arrived, I remember, in advance of the rest of the house party, and that evening, as we drank our coffee, our hostess told us rather an uncanny story of a burglary which had happened shortly before. The man had been arrested and was "doing time." (By the way, Lady Meux visited his wife and befriended her during his imprisonment.) The next evening we were sitting in the billiard room, when we were disturbed by the loud barking of a dog. "What's the matter, I wonder?" said my friend, as the noise didn't cease. A moment later, a great roar was heard, followed by most extraordinary sounds, then on the top of this came the firing of a gun, then a trampling and uproar, after which followed a volley of shots, and immediately a sound as if every animal of the Zoo had broken loose, the monkeys screaming and chattering above the trumpeting of the elephant and the growls of the bear. We jumped to our feet; my friend was horrified, and Lady Meux shrieked: "There are the burglars!" and fled upstairs. Abandoning our game of billiards, we prepared to seek the scene from which such strange sounds were coming, when a footman appeared and informed us that the tiger had got loose and had mauled the gardener's boy. "I have orders," he said, "to turn out the lights, lock the doors, and forbid any one to go outside." "How ridiculous!" said my friend. "I've had considerable experience with tigers in India ... those orders are absurd ... turn up the lights at once." "No, sir; I daren't," answered the man. A moment later, the gardener appeared with his clothing torn and his arm all over blood.