Writing from here on 3 February 1845, my grandfather tells my father that “Mr ***** came on Saturday, his two little dogs with him, which so worried little Gracey that she ran under the clock, and on the dogs approaching, she ran up the chain as far as the works and stopped the clock.” (When the mouse ran up the clock, it probably went up the chain, as Gracey did, not up outside the case, as shown in certain picture-books.) “On taking away the dogs, I opened the door of the clock, and she jumped out and away and would not come near the house for some time.” It was a ‘grandfather’ clock, and Gracey was a cat. There was always a cat called Gracey here. My brother made a pedigree of Gracies, showing the descent in female line with the collateral branches; and this ‘little’ Gracey comes in there as ‘Peter’s niece.’ My sister writes to my grandmother, 29 January 1851, “Brother Henry and I went to a party on Tuesday evening. We danced and saw a magic lantern, and there was a German tree, and many nice things to eat. We enjoyed it all very much, and did not get ill after it.” At that date a Christmas tree was still a novelty, and was called a German tree, as the fashion came from Germany. Christmas also brought snapdragons; and, after seeing the Blue Grotto at Capri, my brother described it as “a large hollow in one of the cliffs, with about a quarter of an acre of water of the colour of a snapdragon fire.” And that, I think, is really quite a good description of it, though I have never seen it described in similar terms elsewhere. There were immense plum puddings here at Christmas and also on all birthdays. My grandfather usually mentions them in his letters to my father. Thus, 26 December 1858, “The men were here yesterday: goose and plum pudding as usual. Bob had the key of the cider cellar and was butler; so, depend on it, there was no lack of cider. However, they all left in good order.” Again, 4 January 1846, “They were invited in yesterday on a famous piece of roasted pork and plum pudding, and drank the little creature’s good health. I believe they would be glad if Baby’s birthday came every month.” And again, 3 January 1869, “Plum puddings have followed pretty quick of late, but there will be a cessation till April, if my life is spared till that time: if not, of course, no pudding.”