We visited many artists' studios with our parents. I am told I was an observant child and consequently had to be warned against making too outspoken criticisms on the pictures and their painters. On one occasion a Mr. Bell was coming to dine; we were allowed in the drawing-room after dinner, and as his appearance was likely to excite our interest, we were warned by our governess against remarking on Mr. Bell's nose. This warning resulted in our anticipation rising to something like excitement, and the moment I entered the room, my gaze went straight to his nose and stayed there. I recollect searching my brain for a comparison, and coming to the conclusion that it resembled a bunch of grapes. My father was a very keen student of archæology; and I think he must have known the history of every building in London inside and out! I remember that once he took us to Westminster Abbey, there, as usual, to make known to us, I have no doubt, many interesting facts. Afterwards we went to St. James' Park, where my father pointed out the ornamental lake where King Charles the Second fed his ducks, and told our governess that he thought it would be an excellent idea if when we returned we were to write a description of our adventures. The next day, accordingly, we sat down to write our compositions; and although my sister's proves to have been not so bad, mine, as will be seen, was shocking. The reader will observe that in speaking of St. James' Park, I have gone so far as to say "King Charles fed his duchess by the lake," which seems to imply a knowledge of that gay monarch beyond my years.