In each bedchamber of the mansion are wardrobes and closets carved in the style of the reign of James I.; the carved mantelpieces are very large; some supported by massive pillars entwined with flowers, others supported by caryatides and figures. The bedsteads and much of the furniture are of the same date as the other fittings. King James's bed-room has the fittings, it is said, exactly as when the king last used them: the hangings, of deep crimson, are profusely ornamented with tassel-work and fringe; the quilted coverlid has wrought flowers in the centre, and at the top of the bed are a royal crown, and other ornaments. It should be mentioned that many of the rooms throughout Hatfield House are fitted with woods of different kinds, and are named, in consequence, "the Oak-room," "the Rose-room," "the Walnut-room," "the Elm-room," &c. The chapel and a suite of ten rooms completed by the present Marquis of Salisbury in the old baronial style, have panelling of various woods, some being of oak, walnut, ash, sycamore, &c. Among the historical pictures at Hatfield is Zucchero's famous portrait of Queen Elizabeth:--She wears a robe embroidered with eyes and ears, a favourite device of hers to express her ubiquitous and sleepless intelligence; and not satisfied with the symbolic eyes and ears, she grasps a rainbow, with the motto, "_Non sine sole Iris_." In the recent exhibition of National Portraits at South Kensington were nineteen portraits of Queen Elizabeth, wonderful examples of her fantastic and execrable taste. "It was a bad time for the arts of portraiture. The costume, in which the Queen led the taste of both sexes, and was a keen critic of it after her fashion, was over-laden, stiff, and unbecoming. The monstrous ruffs, high-shouldered leg-of-mutton sleeves, long-pointed stomachers, and broad-hipped Spanish fardingales of the women are not redeemed from deformity by all their wealth of lace, embroidery, pearls, and jewels; while the round hats of the men--their long-waisted doublets, their hose, wide-swelling at the thigh, and tight to the knee, would defy even a Titian to make them picturesque, in spite of silk and satin and velvet, lace and slashes, ropes of pearl, rich pendants, jewelled belts, and hatbands of goldsmiths' work. There never was a time when foppery ran so rampant, and the Queen was the worst of all in the bad taste and extravagance of her attire. Melville, the Scottish Ambassador, tells us how she had weeds of all countries, and would appear in a different one at every audience--how she talked to him of millinery and dress-making, hair and head tires, and seemed more anxious for his opinion on such matters than on affairs of State. We have her wardrobe books when she was 68, and find among her stores of finery, exclusive of 99 State dresses, Coronation, mourning,