I have already referred to Mr. Lloyd's homely disposition, and this may be the better understood when it is mentioned that on the occasion of my long chat with him at his beautiful house at Tulse Hill, after my visit to Brighton, the day was positively converted into a holiday. The two youngest boys, Ramon Richard and Cecil Edward, had a day's leave from Sidcup College. Mr. Edward Turner Lloyd, the eldest son, and a professor at the Royal Academy of Music, was there. Miss Mary Louisa Lloyd sang many a delightful ballad to us, and Mrs. Lloyd herself, together with her husband and Mr. N. Vert, an old friend of the family, made up a very happy party. So, together with this merry company, I explored the house and grounds of Hassendean. [Illustration: THE DINING ROOM--BRIGHTON. _From a Photo by Elliot & Fry._] The early months of winter had by no means robbed the garden of a thousand beauties. Flowers which help to brighten the dark and cold months of the year were bravely holding up their heads above the soil, and the trio of tennis-courts looked in perfect condition. Mr. Lloyd and all the members of his family are enthusiastic tennis players, and it is no difficult matter for one to picture the pleasant little parties which gather on the grass and revel in the five o'clock teas set out impromptu in the cosy arbours. [Illustration: THE DRAWING ROOM--BRIGHTON. _From a Photo by Elliott & Fry._] There is a pause in our journey at the steps which lead to the interior of Hassendean, a photographic pause for the purpose of a family group. Even "Ruff," a fine Persian cat, who a minute ago had been engaged in chasing an innocent sparrow, was called into requisition to face the camera as being an important representative of the domestic pets of the house. However, as soon as we got indoors again it was apparent that pussy could only lay claim to a certain share of favours bestowed. A voice proceeded from the kitchen: it was the parrot, who had been sent down below in order to be in close proximity to the kitchen fire, owing to a temporary indisposition. Still, its much-to-be-regretted sickness in no way interfered with its powers of speech. Then, as we stayed for a moment in the conservatory--where, in the midst of the palms and ferns, a fine statuette of "A Dancing Girl," by J. Lawler, who sculptured one of the sides of the Albert Memorial, stands in a conspicuous position--a little canary suddenly bursts into song as Mr. Lloyd encourages it by running his fingers along the wires of its cage. This same little canary played a conspicuous part after lunch, when we repaired to the conservatory, of which more anon. [Illustration: HASSENDEAN. _From a Photo by Elliot and Fry._]