"At all events it shall be No. 1 of my sketches. Have you no favourite theory as to its date?" I asked. "No, I always endeavour to curb imagination." "And you an artist!" said I. "Yes," he replied, "in my studio imagination is a welcome guest, but even there she must submit to the bridle. She may create materials for a subject, but should never be allowed to tamper with those already in existence?" "I do not like your view on this point; surely imagination is the source of much exquisite and innocent pleasure?" "I see," said Winter, "you will side with my fair antagonist, Miss Vernon; she talks whole volumes of the prettiest fantasies on this subject, and never has patience to hear my solemn assurance that imagination, though a grand and glorious gift, requires strong coercion. But then we never agree, although we are fast friends." "My dear Sir," I exclaimed, with some warmth, "you and I may require to rein up ours occasionally, but I do not suppose Miss Vernon's imagination ever presents any but the holiest images." "Ha! ha!" laughed Winter, "ha! ha! Kate is a more than commonly good girl, but she's not an angel;--I would not love her half so well if she was! And, take my advice, do not tell her your opinion of her, or in spite of her having nearly as brilliant a fancy as your own, she'll make you laugh at yourself!" I had too much _savoir faire_ not to receive this sally with a smiling acknowledgment of its wisdom, although it grated on my feelings; and in my heart I experienced a sensation approximating to a lively hatred to my intelligent cicerone, who continued--"I have made several sketches of this old house, but I find that carved front does not tell well in a picture; large proportions, plenty of light and shade, are what we want for effect." From this point a neighbouring flight of steps conducted us to the walls, from which we gazed on many a lovely picture; Winter expatiating on their peculiar beauties as a connoisseur dwells on the excellences of some oft-studied _chef d'oeuvre_ of art. "As for the legends," said he, "in which every inch of this ground is rich, you must get Miss Vernon to tell them to you; I would make a sad _olla podrida_ of them were I to try; but she is perfect in it, and, with Gilpin's assistance, has acquired some large additions lately." "That Mr. Gilpin seems an oddity," I observed. "Yes, poor fellow! and yet if his form was as straight as his heart, you would find few as beautiful. It would be impossible to tell all the good he does, and that with the miserable stipend of an Organist. _Carambo!_ he might put our pampered priests to the blush, if such a thing were possible." "He seems to be a great favourite with the Colonel and Miss Vernon," said I.