he
open doorway is surpassingly rich in colour. The interior contains much
fine carving--the altar-piece is of alabaster, with the Virgin and child
for central figures. The windows are delicately tinted: in spite of the
excess of splendour naught can offend the artistic taste.

The Clinton family, of which the Duke of Newcastle is head, is one of
the oldest and most celebrated in our annals. Geoffrey de Clinton, a
distinguished forbear, Chamberlain and Treasurer to Henry the First, was
the builder of Warwick Castle, and after his day his collateral
descendants devoted their lives to serving the Crown faithfully. Edward
the First called one his "beloved squire"; others fought with glory in
the French battles. A Clinton was in the deputation that received Anne
of Cleves when she journeyed to meet her spouse. Another assisted in the
suppression of Sir Thomas Wyatt's rebellion, and was afterwards one of
Queen Elizabeth's Privy Council, being employed in various matters of
high import, notably in the projected marriage of his royal mistress and
the Duke of Anjou. He died in the fullness of honour, and was buried in
St. George's Chapel, Windsor. His son was one of the peers at the trial
of Mary Queen of Scots. In the time of George the First another of the
family filled the highest office of state, and died Lord Privy Seal;
whilst the present duke's grandfather, as illustrious as any of his
predecessors, was a celebrated politician of Early Victorian days, and
was, moreover, honoured with the friendship and admiration of the young
Gladstone.

THORESBY

The village of Budby, beyond the confines of Thoresby Park, is one of
the most placid and sleepy places I know. The stuccoed houses are
perhaps devoid of picturesqueness, but the shallow Meden, which runs
quietly beside the roadway, is crystal-clear, and from the wilderness on
the farther bank one often sees pert black water hens slip gently from
the shelter of the long grass, and glide to and fro like tiny boats.
Beyond the bridge swans swim very proudly, with the austere dignity that
has naught in common with the familiar bearing of petted birds in town
parks. The Meden is a beautiful and melancholy stream, at whose side an
exile from the hill country might sit down and weep. The rough woodland
from which we are barred has a refreshingly cool aspect: in summer the
wilder foliage contrasts strikingly with the rich purple of
rhododendrons.

The present house of Thore