Having thus made our halt at Haltham, we bid adieu to the place, and push on southward. Passing Tumby Lawn, the residence of Sir H. M. Hawley, surrounded by leafy groves, within whose shade (teste scriptore) Philomel doth pour forth (malgré the poets) _his_ flood of song, while a whole coterie of other birds in “amorous descant” join; and sheltered from the east by the extensive woods of Haltham, Fulsby, and Tumby, remains of the whilom “Tumby Chase,” we find ourselves, at the end of some three and a half miles, entering the main street of Coningsby. Here again, we might ask, with love-sick Juliet, “What’s in a name?” But, in sooth, a name may be an epitome of history. There is an old proverb that “knowledge is power,” and we might say, the name of Coningsby is a territorial exemplification and perpetuation of this adage. In the language once spoken in these parts, {218} the conning, cunning man and the king were one and the same; the king _was_ king because he was the conner, the thinker, and so overtopped his fellows in cunning. He embodied in his own person the moral of every age of progress, that brute force must yield the palm to skill and judgment. Mob-rule may for a while snatch at, and hold, the mastery; but ’tis the man who has the cunning to bide his time, and then seize the opportunity, who will be borne in triumph on the shoulders of those who once hustled and jostled him. Within some miles northward of where I am writing lies Kingthorpe, “the king’s village”; and at just about the same distance southward lies Coningsby, with precisely the same meaning. Both names imply the presence at one time of a king; who he may have been we do not know, but he put down his foot there, and the stamp remains. There was once a castellated residence here, the home of the Coningsby family; and one of them, Thomas, was created Earl of Coningsby, but, dying without issue, the title became extinct in 1729. I may here mention that the tomb of the last Countess of Coningsby is in the north chantry chapel of Heydour church (between Sleaford and Grantham); it is a marble monument by Rijsbrach. There is also a slab to the last Viscount, 1733, who is traditionally said to have been taken from his cradle by a pet monkey, and dropped by it, in the terror of pursuit, from the roof of the house on to the stone pavement below, and so killed. The position of this old Coningsby mansion is not precisely known; but in a field on the south side of the main street there is an ancient dove-cot, and some fine trees, such as one might expect about a baronial residence. The Coningsbys moved from Coningsby to Hampton Court in Herefordshire more than two centuries ago. {219a} There was a very fine collection of pictures at this place, a list of which was given in the “Gentleman’s Magazine” of April 26, 1826. Among these was a painting of the old mansion of Coningsby. Hampton Court is now the residence of John