A few months later the table was sold to Lord Hertford, who was, of course, told its history. At the time Lord Hertford laughed at the story, declaring that he purchased the table more on account of its being a fine work of art than for any other reason; but, nevertheless, he would appear to have made some investigations into its history, for he subsequently told Mr. Davis that he had found his statement to be perfectly correct, and had identified the table as being the identical one upon which the Treaty had been signed. Lord Hertford added that he had been present at Tilsit at the time, and now perfectly recalled to mind this particular piece of furniture having been rescued from the fire. Another exceptionally fine relic of the best days of art, which passed through Mr. Davis’s hands, was the famous Sèvres commode with mounts by Gouthière, which he purchased from the late Lord Conyngham for £20,000. This commode had once been in Windsor Castle, and was said to have been purchased for George IV., at the time of the Treaty of Amiens, for the sum of £200. When Mr. Davis had finished his negotiations (he just managed to outbid the late Lord Dudley, who was especially anxious to secure such a splendid example of French art) he sent his son in a van to fetch it—a special precaution, to prevent the precious commode from being damaged. To the horror of Mr. Charles Davis, on the return journey his unwonted conveyance, suddenly coming to a dead stop, began to rock about in a most disquieting manner, and in a few seconds he realised from the sounds which reached him that the horse had been seized with a fit of the staggers, and that the van was fast nearing a perilous position close to the curb-stone, where it must almost inevitably be upset. Rising to the situation, however, he shouted out, “A fiver to any man who holds up the van,” and in consequence of this presence of mind the van was somehow saved from overturning and the precious commode rescued from what would have been certain destruction. Mr. Charles Davis possesses a perfectly unique knowledge of French art, and having had many varied experiences in European capitals, has naturally some very interesting stories to tell—there are few things, indeed, which I enjoy more than a chat with him about the great connoisseurs of the past. The late Mr. Hawkins, whose snuff-boxes created such a sensation at Christie’s not so very long ago, was a particularly eccentric collector. Buying very largely, he would often not trouble to unpack his purchases once they were made. A Sèvres tea-service, for instance, was found in its packing-case in Mr. Hawkins’s hall in exactly the same place where it had been deposited after its purchase, some twenty-five years before, whilst valuable snuff-boxes were discovered put away in all sorts of odd corners.