rid of them to see
once more my dear old friends, Sir Charles and Lady K----. Accordingly,
I accepted Achrow's invitation, and the afternoon of December 23rd saw
me snugly ensconced in a first-class compartment _en route_ for Castle
Street, Northampton. Now, although I am, not unnaturally, perhaps,
prejudiced in favour of Ireland and everything that is Irish, I must say
I do not think the Emerald Isle shows her best in winter, when the banks
of fair Killarney are shorn of their vivid colouring, and the whole
country from north to south, and east to west, is carpeted with mud. No,
the palm of wintry beauty must assuredly be given to the English
Midlands--the Midlands with their stolid and richly variegated
woodlands, and their pretty undulating meadows, clad in fleecy garments
of the purest, softest, and most glittering snow. It was a typical
Midland Christmas when I got to Northampton and took my place in the
luxurious closed carriage Achrow had sent to meet me.

"Killington Grange lies at the extremity of the village. It stands in
its own grounds of some hundred or so acres, and is approached by a long
avenue that winds its way from the lodge gates through endless rows of
giant oaks and elms, and slender, silver birches. On either side, to
the rear of the trees, lay broad stretches of undulating pasture land,
that in one place terminated in the banks of a large lake, now
glittering with ice and wrapped in the silence of death.

"The crunching of the carriage wheels on gravel, the termination of the
trees, and a great blaze of light announced the close proximity of the
house, and in a few seconds I was standing on the threshold of an
imposing entrance.

"A footman took my valise, and before I had crossed the spacious hall, I
was met by my host and kind old friends, whose combined and hearty
greetings were a happy forecast of what was to come. Indeed, at a
merrier dinner party I have never sat down, though in God's truth I have
dined in all kinds of places, and with all sorts of people: with
Princesses of the Royal blood, aflame with all the hauteur of their
race; with earls and counts; with blood-thirsty anarchists; with bishops
and Salvationists, miners and policemen, Dagos and Indians (Red and
Brown); with Japs, Russians, and Poles; and, in short, with the _elite_
and the rag-tag and bobtail of all climes. But, as I have already said,
I had seldom if ever enjoyed a dinner as I enjoyed this one.

"Possibly the rea