reat an air would he enter the breakfast-room and address us:--"Ladies
and Gentlemen, I wish you a happy Christmas, etc. etc." I am afraid he
got but a sheepish response from us. Among the outdoor servants there
were three whom I remember well. There was Brooks, the general outdoor
man, who acted as gardener, cowman, etc. He had dark eyes and a
melancholy, morose face. Of him I have told elsewhere {56a} the
following anecdote:--

Brooks had been accused by the other gardener of using foul language, and
was hailed before my father to be judged. I, as a little boy, standing
in the hall, heard my father say, "You know you are a very bad-tempered
man." "Yes, sir" (in a tone of deep depression). "Then get out of the
room--you ought to be ashamed of yourself." At this point I rushed
upstairs in vague alarm and heard no more.

Brooks lived in a cottage close to the cow-yard, with his wife, in whom I
took an interest because her name was Keziah, and because she was the
best smocker in the village. I have a vague recollection of a private in
the Guards to whom I was introduced as a son of Brooks--a statement I
regarded as surprising. Mrs Brooks was as melancholy as her husband, and
I remember many years later, when the pair were pensioned off in the
village, hearing Brooks say in her presence, "She ain't no comfort to me,
sir." To this she made no retort, though a _tu quoque_ would have been
most just.

The under-gardener, Lettington (the man who objected to being sworn at),
was a kindly person and a great friend of mine. It was he who taught me
to make whistles {56b} in the spring and helped me with my tame rabbits.
He also showed me how to make brick-traps for small birds, and a more
elaborate trap made of hazel twigs. In this last I remember catching a
blackbird: I imagine that I must have been rather afraid of my captive,
for the unfortunate bird escaped leaving its tail in my hands. I do not
think I ever wanted to kill the few other birds caught in traps, but let
them go free. I clearly remember looking with envy and admiration at
Bewicke's woodcuts of traps, _e.g._ that of the woodcock springe, and
another of a sieve propped up over grain sprinkled as bait.

To return to Lettington. It was he who helped my father in his
experiments on the crossing of plants: he lived to a great age, dying as
a pensioner many years later. My father used to tell with amusement how
Lettington never failed to remind him of