vely
cheap.
* * * * *
Paying my penny to visit the Great Vine the other day, I found myself alone
in the conservatory with none other than the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER
himself, who was regarding this magnificent specimen of horticulture with
evident interest through his monocle. After mentioning to him that its
record output was twenty-two hundred clusters, I could not resist the
temptation of asking him whether he thought the manufacture of home-grown
wines would be stimulated by the provisions of the present Budget. Mr.
CHAMBERLAIN, however, returned an evasive reply and went out to join Sir
EDWARD CARSON, who was pacing up and down in front of the Orangery.
* * * * *
Other well-known politicians whom I have noticed here lately have been Lord
BEATTY and Lord FISHER strolling arm-in-arm beside the Long Canal, and Mr.
JACK JONES looking contemptuously at the Kynge's Beestes; and the other
day, owing to identical errors in our choice of _routes_, I bumped into Sir
ERIC GEDDES no fewer than five times during one afternoon in the Maze. The
LORD CHANCELLOR is another frequent visitor. For one who has the mitigation
of the harsher features of our marriage laws so much at heart, these
Courts, where "bluff KING HAL" celebrated so many of his cheeriest
weddings, have a special charm. It is true that the eighth Henry was a
little one-sided in his ideas of reform, but that was the fault of his age
rather than himself, and, like the present National Party, he had, as the
LORD CHANCELLOR put it, the great heart of the people behind him.
* * * * *
Nor is it only statesmen who haunt the great palace. Nowhere else but here,
where JAMES I.'S company of actors, including WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,
performed, can Mr. HENRY AINLEY obtain the requisite atmosphere which
inspires his swift variety of impersonations, and I am told that his sudden
remark of, "Oh, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth," made to one of
the attendants who had been for many years in the army, was nearly the
cause of a slight fracas. Mr. H. G. WELLS has sometimes been seen staring
open-mouthed at the painting of the Olympian cosmogony which adorns the
ceiling and walls of the Grand Staircase, and in the wych-elm bower Sir J.
M. BARRIE tells me that he often thinks out the titles of his new plays. It
was here, in fact, whilst he was weighing the delicate question, "
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