“How nice of you! That evening at Mr. Alfred Rothschild’s, the Prince of Wales asked me why I do not stay in London during ‘the season,’ and take some part in its endless social pleasures. ‘Because, your Royal Highness,’ I replied, ‘I have a lovely home in Wales, and whenever I come away from it I leave my heart there.’ ‘After all,’ said the prince, ‘why should you stay in London when the whole world is only too glad to make pilgrimages to Craig-y-Nos?’ Wasn’t that pretty?” I wish I could somehow convey the _naïveté_ with which the last three words were uttered. The tone expressed the most innocent pleasure in the world. Indeed, when Patti speaks in this way she seems to be wondering why people should say and do so many pleasant things in her behalf. There is an air of childish wonder in her look and voice. I said: “All good republicans have a passion for royalty. I find that an article about a king or a queen or a prince is in greater demand in the United States than anywhere else in the world. Do tell me something more about the Prince and Princess of Wales. I promise you, as a zealous democrat, that no one on the far side of the Atlantic will skip a word. Have the prince and princess visited Craig-y-Nos?” “No. But they were coming here a couple of years ago. See--here is the prince’s letter fixing the date. But it was followed by their sudden bereavement, and then for many, many months they lived in quiet and mourning, only coming forth in their usual way just before the recent royal wedding. They sent me an invitation to the wedding festivities. But alas! I could not attend them. I had just finished my season, and was lying painfully ill with rheumatism. You heard of that? For weeks I suffered acutely. It’s an old complaint. I have had it at intervals since I was a child. But about the royal wedding. When the Prince and Princess of Wales learned that I was too ill to accept their gracious invitation, they--well, what do you suppose they did next?” “Something very apt and graceful.” “They sent me two large portraits of themselves, bearing their autographs, and fitted into great gilt frames. You shall see the portraits after dinner. They occupy the place of honor in Craig-y-Nos Castle.” [Illustration: THE CONSERVATORY.] We had reached the coffee stage of the dinner, and the cigars were being passed. The ladies did not withdraw, according to the mediæval and popular English habit, but the company remained unbroken, and while the gentlemen smoked, the ladies kept them in conversation. Presently, some one proposed Patti’s health, and we all stood, singing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”