vered
lawn-tennis court lighted by electricity and heated with hot water, in
which play can go on by night as well as by day, in winter just as much
as in summer. "We miss this tennis court dreadfully when we are in
Devonshire," said Mr. Newnes, as we quitted the beautiful hall for the
house. "I am myself devoted to tennis and golfing, and, indeed, I
sometimes think it is that that has helped me to get through so much
work. Good players generally make good workers," he added, with a laugh.
"Now will you come and join our party at luncheon?" and as he spoke he
led the way into a handsome dining-room. At luncheon the conversation
dealt chiefly with sport and games, to my own great relief be it added,
for the dweller in the tents of the literary world hears but little of
the ordinary topics of conversation, and becomes suffocated, if he be
not to the manner born, with the nauseating cant and self-sufficiency
which is so typical of the literary world of to-day, and more especially
typical of its younger members. But at George Newnes's house you hear
but little shop. We discussed golf and its rapidly increasing
popularity, the newest "serve" at tennis, and some of the most
remarkable cricket scores made during the past season.

[Illustration: MR. NEWNES.]

[Illustration: MRS. NEWNES.]

[Illustration: THE BILLIARD-ROOM.]

The host joined eagerly in our talk until interrupted by the servant,
who brought in a message. Quitting us for a moment, he returned with a
smiling apology, and told me that in that brief space of time he had
transacted a piece of business which certainly was not without its
interest. A gentleman, it appeared--the son of a celebrated
_litterateur_ of a past day--had called to show some beautiful drawings
by the celebrated "Dicky" Doyle, a relation of Dr. Conan Doyle. With Mr.
Newnes--and it is thoroughly characteristic of the man--to close with a
good bargain is but the work of a moment, and therefore I was not
surprised, as he placed the dainty pictures before me, to learn that he
had purchased them for reproduction in his world-famed magazine. After
luncheon, Mr. Newnes suggested that we should retire to his
billiard-room, to reach which we had to pass through his own special
sanctum in which he dictates his letters, &c., to his private
secretary--energetic Mr. William Plank, who has been with him for five
hard working years--while he walks up and down the room. "I can always
think better whilst I wa