MILLARD’S HILL WITH “NARCISSUS” IN THE FOREGROUND. _From a Drawing by E. V. B._ ] Of Millard’s Hill and the days we passed there, I shall have to say more in a future page.[38] In 1842 I accompanied my mother, my two younger brothers, and my sister to the prettiest sea-side town I know—Tenby, in South Wales, rich in beetling cliffs, venerable old castles, picturesque manor houses, the fields and woods of which boasted of a flora of such varied character as to attract the notice and admiration of botanists as unscientific as ourselves. Here we were joined, to the enhancement of every pleasure, by a beautiful girl and fast friend, who shared in all our pursuits inside the house and all our excursions abroad, whom I will designate here by the name of Fanny. I used to call her my damask-rose, on account of her brilliant colouring; she was at that time in the full bloom of early youth, and endowed with a high spirit, but scarcely seven years had passed from that time, ere I was called to shed bitter tears over her tragical and untimely end. Footnote 38: See Chapter XXV. In one of our excursions from Tenby, we visited Stackpole, a charming residence of the Earl of Cawdor, where many years later I became a guest, to assist at the marriage of a dear nephew with one of the fair daughters of that noble house, and to contract a real friendship with the kind and genial representative of Shakespeare’s Thane. [Sidenote: “BAL COSTUMÉ”] Much as we all enjoyed our seaside walks and hair-breadth “‘scapes” from the sudden influx of the tide, a temptation to absent ourselves for a while came, at least to the two youngest members of the family, in the shape of an invitation (rather should I say a command) to a Court Ball. It certainly appeared a long way to go to a ball, even for me, with my dancing propensities, but, this was a _bal costumé_, and therefore doubly attractive in my eyes. I must confess I never regretted the effort my brother Cavendish and I made on that occasion, for the memory of that night’s scene is one from which I should be loth to part. I was to be escorted to the palace by two gentlemen of the time of William III., dressed in the garb which is so well-known in the pictures of the Prince of Orange’s landing in England. Their long square-cut coats, their costly lace cravats, and their long flowing wigs, made the two cousins (who bore a near resemblance to each other) look like twins, while I had selected the character, in nowise analogous, of “Sweet Anne Page.” The amusement found in arranging our costumes was greatly heightened by the assistance we derived from Charles Young, and the constant visits he paid us in consequence.