Devonshire House is one of the great houses of London, and is full of Art treasures, a list of which alone would fill a volume; particularly remarkable is the collection of drawings by the old masters, which includes the original “Liber Veritatis” of Claude de Lorraine; and a superb collection of engravings by Marc Antonio--to mention but these. In the library is the great Kemble collection of old plays, including the first four folios of Shakespeare’s works, &c., which the sixth Duke bought for £2,000. What are they not worth now? The portico replaced, in 1840, the old entrance which was by a flight of steps on each side; and among the other improvements made by the sixth Duke was the addition of a fine marble staircase up which all the great ones of several generations have passed, from the days when the beautiful Duchess welcomed Fox here, and the Prince Regent, “surrounded by the first Whig families in the country,” stood to see the apotheosis of the “man of the people” after the Westminster election, to days within memory, when Dickens and his friends acted here for charity. [Sidenote: STRATTON STREET.] Beyond Devonshire House is Stratton Street, which is, of course, named after Lord Berkeley, the hero of Stratton fight. Although there have been one or two interesting people living in this street in the past, such as Campbell, the poet, who was here in 1802; James Douglas, the author of “Nenia Britannica”; and Lord Lynedoch, who was second in command in the Peninsula, the chief interest attaching to it is the fact that at No. 1, which belonged to Coutts, the banker, and looks on to Piccadilly, lived for many years, until her death quite recently, the venerable Baroness Burdett-Coutts. The house next door, No. 80, Piccadilly, with its old-fashioned front and painted glass windows to the ground floor rooms, was for many years the residence of her father, Sir Francis Burdett, and it was from here that, in 1810, he was taken to the Tower. For two days he successfully barricaded himself in the house, but entrance being eventually forced, he was found, somewhat theatrically, teaching one of his children Magna Charta. The riots consequent on this incarceration are mentioned at length in many of the letters and diaries of the period; and the soldiers, for their share in suppressing them, were termed “Piccadilly Butchers.” The house next door (No. 81) stands on the site of the celebrated Watier’s Club, established in 1807. Watier had been cook to the Prince of Wales, and although his gastronomic skill was unquestionable, and although Brummell was the presiding genius (or, was it because of that fact?), the club, which had been the ruin of many a member, only existed for about 12 years, according to Gronow, whose well-known story of its origin, may be repeated here:--