Lord John was a gourmet, and very particular in the matter of cuisine. He would often call to the footman, in the middle of dinner, and say in a querulous tone: “Tell the cook to come to me this moment,” which occasioned rather an awkward pause. Then, on the entrance of the poor _artiste_, with very red face from the combined effects of the kitchen fire and mental confusion, he would address her in a voice of thunder: “Pray have the goodness to taste that dish, and tell me if you do not agree with me that it is beastly.” [Sidenote: TOWNSHENDS, AND MRS FITZHERBERT] In spite of all these eccentricities, I was very fond of my uncle, and used to sit for hours talking to him by the side of his chair, for he was a martyr to gout. Mrs Fitzherbert was a friend of the Townshends, and lived at Brighton at the same time; she gave many parties, and when charades and tableaux were the order of the day, or rather night, I was allowed to be of the party, while still a child. One of the most shining lights of the dramatic company was Lady Anna Maria Elliot, daughter of Lord Minto, afterwards the wife of Sir Rufane Donkin. She was as kind-hearted as she was witty, a great friend of my mother’s, and the idol of us children. One evening the word acted was “champagne.” In the first syllable, “sham,” Lady Anna Maria out-did herself, and being a thorough artist, sacrificed all considerations of personal vanity to the requirements of her _rôle_. Never shall I forget her impersonation of Miss Rosina Falballa, returning from the ball—an elderly spinster, with a flaxen wig crowned by a wreath of roses and otherwise youthfully accoutred, calling her maid hastily, retiring into an adjoining room, leaving the door ajar, and from her hidingplace, handing out to the attendant abigail all those mysterious appendages of the toilet which gave the title to the first scene of the charade, sham of all kinds; the wig, the ratelier, the paddings, culminating in what is now familiarly termed a “dress improver,” but in those less genteel days, “a bustle.” It would be difficult to imagine the screams of laughter; suffice it to say her ladyship brought down the house. [Sidenote: TABLEAUX AT BRIGHTON]