Hammersmith, on the other hand, was famous for its fruit,—strawberries, raspberries, and the like, being grown in great perfection. Fulham also formerly produced a great quantity of fruit and vegetables, and though several acres of land which had previously served for this purpose were put to other uses in 1865, the ground stretching towards Hammersmith and North End was pretty well covered with market gardens as late as the ’seventies. In my childhood, of course, Chelsea and Hammersmith were considered quite in the country. As an instance of this, it may be mentioned that in the Royal Blue Book for 1826 Chelsea Farm is given as the “country residence” of Lady Cremorne. The ground occupied by this lady’s house, after being utilised for the celebrated Cremorne Gardens, has now been covered with streets. Every year London grows bigger and bigger, and the day now seems to be not far distant when the road to southern watering-places, such as Brighton, will run through an almost unbroken line of villas. Of late there seems to be a tendency to live more and more out of London, City men and others making a practice of travelling up and down every day, journeys which can now be made in perfect comfort and convenience. Luxury in travelling, as in most other things, has much increased. Marvellous it is how, within my lifetime, the general standard of comfort amongst all classes has been raised, though not, I fear, with any particular increase of contentment. The so-called necessaries of life have become very much multiplied, and there is now a universal craving for amusement which was quite unknown in old days. Everything is comparative, and the luxury of to-day becomes the necessity of to-morrow. The life of the poorer classes living in the country, notwithstanding the fact that wages were lower than at present, was certainly not an unhappy one in old days, when there was a bond of sympathy existing between landlord and tenantry which is now, except in some few cases, a thing of the past. Classes were then more strictly defined, and the farmers, the majority of them sturdy yeomen of far more distinguished descent than most of the brand-new Peers of to-day, would have laughed to scorn any idea of calling themselves gentlemen; now, however, it would seem that every one is a gentleman or a lady. Universal and, as many think, misdirected education has completely destroyed the picturesque side of village life, and in the place of the quaint old traditions and picturesque beliefs handed down by their forefathers, modern villagers possess a rudimentary smattering of all sorts of useless knowledge, which, imperfectly assimilated, serves but to render them loutish copies of the townsmen whom it is their ambition to imitate.