, it seems, until we got to the Duke's private
library. When you are once in the room the doors are shut. You cannot
tell how you got in or how you will get out. On every wall the bookcases
are built in and there is not an opening of any kind; not a break in the
rows and rows of books. The explanation is simply this: the doors
themselves are made to look like book shelves, painted on.

"Chatsworth is so large that were I living there I should want a Cook's
guide every time I moved. One picture gallery is full of sketches by
Hogarth, and pictures of almost every old master you ever heard of, and
some you never heard of. Opening out of this gallery are great glass
doors leading into halls into which the different bedrooms open. In one
bedroom the walls and ceiling were covered with oil paintings, not
hanging but literally painted on them. The bed was a huge four-poster.
The curtains were of heavy brocaded satin. The windows looked out on
terraces, garden and fountains. I like this room best of all. We were
taken through the state apartments where I saw on a throne a huge chair
of state on a platform, with canopy over it, with the Duke's crest in
gold woven upon it. In one of the drawing-rooms we saw a life-size
portrait of Henry VIII., a real true one painted from life, and one of
Philip II. of Spain, and of Charles V., and of Anne of Austria. The Duke
had sent special word from London to have the fountains in the park play
for us, and we watched them from the window. They are beautiful. Such
nice shower baths for the marble statues on the terrace!

"The Prince of Wales has often visited Chatsworth, and a funny story was
told about one of his visits. It was after dinner and the drawing-room
was full of people. Whenever Royalty is present it is expected that the
men will wear all their decorations. Well, the Earl of Something-or-other
had forgotten one of his, and someone reported this fact to the Prince
who sent for the culprit to be brought before him. At the time the
Prince was seated on one of the huge lounges, on which only a giant
could sit and keep his feet on the floor. The Prince was sitting far
back and his feet stuck straight out in the air. When the guilty man was
brought up to be reprimanded the attitude of the Prince was far from
dignified. His Royal Highness was not really angry, but he told the poor
Earl of Something-or-other that he must write out the oath of the Order
that he had forgotten to wear. It was