At length, on what John Stanhope subsequently described as the happiest day of his life, he reached Cannon Hall; and he used to relate that one of the first discoveries which he made on entering his old home convinced him how confident at one time his family must have been that he was numbered with the dead, for a very valuable collection of prints, which he had greatly prized, had, in view of his supposed decease, been employed by his brothers in papering one of the bachelors' bedrooms! Naturally, he was strongly urged by his relations not to risk leaving England again, and many of his friends added their persuasions to those of his family, pointing out the serious risk which he ran in again visiting the continent. To all such representations he turned a deaf ear, since he held that, as his liberty had been granted him with the ostensible object of enabling him to prosecute his proposed researches in Greece, he was in honour bound to fulfil that obligation. His brother Edward decided to accompany him, and to his brother William he wrote:-- CANNON HALL, _September 1813._ Edward and I start for Greece next month, & my old friend Bonaparte is at such a low ebb that I think perhaps I may be able to return through France without the agreeable title of Prisoner. You seem to think that I am not obliged to go into Greece. The truth is that I do not consider myself as positively obliged, but I consider that the honour of a Stanhope must not only be maintained, it must not even be suspected, so go I will, be the consequences what they may. [Illustration: EDWARD COLLINGWOOD, SON OF WALTER SPENCER STANHOPE, ESQ., M.P.] Thus it befell that John Stanhope nearly became, for the second time, a prisoner of Napoleon, and the tale of his adventures may be concluded here. He had promised that he would _en route_ deliver some despatches to the Queen of Wurtemburg; he therefore journeyed to Stuttgart, where he had a lively interview with the former Princess Royal of England, who, although now forty-seven years of age, and exceedingly massive in figure, still retained her girlish sprightliness. On hearing that a young Englishman desired to see her, she at once concluded that someone had been sent with fresh news of her father, George III., the thought of whose mental affliction was a constant source of grief to her. John Stanhope writes:-- STUTTGART, _January 10th, 1814._