Lord Spencer was very fond of frequenting his well-filled stables and conversing with his stud-groom as to the names and qualifications of their inmates. One day he remarked to him: “I have been thinking over the selection of a name for the new mare, but I cannot please myself yet.” “Well, my lord,” was the answer, “you bought her on the 29th of May; why not call her the ‘Merry Monarch?’” “Well,” said his master, striving to conceal a smile, “I think that will scarcely do; perhaps we had better call her ‘Empress,’ in honour of the Empress Eugénie.” “Very good, my lord, then I shall have nothing to do but to change the tablet over Emperor’s stall by adding an ‘s’ to it!” What an easy solution to a difficulty. The library was also rich in characters. One of its keepers, Mr Jakeman, knew the position of every single book in its seven rooms. He was an excellent and eccentric-looking man, whom we named “Dominie Sampson.” His predecessor was a short, thick-set little man, who complained once to my brother that the then Lord Spencer did not keep up the honour of the library sufficiently, as he had discontinued some of the principal works. “Well, now, Captain,” he would say, “for instance, my lord has never taken in the last numbers of the ‘Newgate Calendar.’” Read was his name, but not his nature; he was very deaf, and even I, who flattered myself I knew how to make the deaf hear, found a difficulty in his case. He told us that some years before, he had had a heavy cold and it had fallen on his hearing; it must indeed have been very heavy. [Sidenote: DEATH OF FREDERIC, EARL SPENCER] It was in the Christmas of the year 1857 that a large party was assembled at Althorp, including my brother Cavendish, his wife, their eldest boy and myself; but alas! the chief part of the guests were obliged to disperse, and the happy season was turned into mourning by the sudden death of our noble host, Frederic, Lord Spencer, leaving a whole household, a large tenantry, and a wide circle of friends to mourn his premature death. We remained on for some days to share in the common grief of his widow and children. But his successor never slackened in kindness and hospitality to the inmates of the Weedon prison, and the “Gaoler,” as he was familiarly called, was still welcome in the old home, and still continued the charge he had undertaken of the precious Library, finding in Sarah Spencer[65] an invaluable colleague in this labour of love. Footnote 65: Sister of the present Earl Spencer. I trust I have not been led into too long a digression in this record of the days which are no more, bound up as they are with fond memories of beloved companions, concerning whom it is a sad delight to converse with the dear cousin to whom I have dedicated these pages. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER -------