neighbourhood, he would have had to return at early and regular hours. How could he have submitted to that? Would he have taken all his old women with him, and how long would they have been at peace with the aristocratic ladies inhabiting the palace? The results of their accidentally meeting on staircases or in passages are too awful to contemplate, and Johnson’s application remains an inexplicable enigma. In 1838, whilst removing one of the old towers built by Wolsey, the workmen came upon a number of glass bottles, which lay among the foundation; they were of curious shape, and it has been suggested that they were buried there to denote the date of the building. On December 14, 1882, the palace had a narrow escape from destruction. A suite of eight or nine rooms, in the occupation of a lady, and overlooking the gardens and the Fountain Court, caught fire at half-past seven in the morning, it is supposed by the upsetting of a benzoline lamp in one of the servants’ rooms. That the authorities should permit the use of such lamps in the building seems strange, especially in rooms situate as those were, over the tapestry-room, which adjoins the Picture Gallery, and contains splendid specimens of Gobelin and other ancient needlework. The flames spread rapidly through the rooms, and three of them were entirely burnt out before the firemen, assisted by men of the 4th Hussars, then stationed at the palace, could check the outbreak. All the other rooms were greatly damaged by fire and water. But the saddest part of the occurrence was that one of the servants, the cook, whilst rushing to the assistance of her fellow-servants, fell senseless on the floor, overcome by the smoke, and her charred and lifeless body was only got out when the fire had been subdued. It is to be hoped that a cause which might involve a great national loss has now been removed by prohibition. In 1839 those parts of the palace which are not occupied by private residents, and the gardens, were thrown open to the public, and during the summer months are visited by thousands, who arrive there by rail, river, van, or, latterly, on the wheel-horse—_vulgo_ bike. The permanent residents bitterly complain of these invasions, and not without reason, seeing how many ’Arrys and ’Arriets come down in holiday time; but as the palace and gardens are maintained at an expense of about £11,000 per annum out of the people’s money, the right of visiting them can scarcely be denied to the public. Nor can the amount spent on the place be found fault with; it is a mere trifle in the domestic house-keeping bill of the nation, and a larger sum is annually wasted in useless firing off of cannon. The palace and gardens— ’The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of’— Albion, are to us what Venice is to Italy: ’... a boast, a marvel, and a show.’ ’But unto us’ Hampton Court