[ L CSTRATED INTERVIETS,

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I'ronca P eato. AS “HI’IH'ZI,I;X.” (Hamlct.) head, anxious to pipe his richest notes as

an assurance of perfect happiness. And here was the tortorse on the grass and Minnic cuddled up in the doorway, blinking her tiny bluc eyes at the sunl)cnm which were ph)- fully striving to drive the peacefully disposed kitten out of her chosen corner. . Whoever built Tower Cottage is hereby publicly thanked —its bricks and latticed windows form the prettiest little picee of architecture of its kind, and 1ts site almost amounts to a paradisc. Just look at its walls, up which the honey- suckle 15 ereeping lmd the roses growing, the areat blooming crimson fuchsias, and the paths edged with the greenest of box ! the berry bushes, and the hammocks hung in the shade hetween the boughs of the apple trees ! You walk along the gravel paths of the garden, and cvery Dlossom on the branches peeping out from the grassy beds appeass just to have come there of its own free will. You look around for the sien of a trowel or spade m vain. Nature seems to have been her own gardener, and planned and planted this floral nook. Then come a little farther to this turrct built over the stables—the turret top with its alternate green boxes of cloves and nasturtiums, on w hich a swing scat has been put up. you get the view.,

“ 1 have scen it many times before,” said

495

Miss Terry, “but 1 always find somcthing morce to look upon. Isn't it fuir? I love space, and surcly 1t is here. T.ook, nght AWAY aCcross the ficlds —with the lambs playing about by the side of the winding rivulets s the sea dotted with tiny vessels. To the Ioft s Rye it looks like a little hillock of houses, doesn’t 1t?- Rye with its windmills: —and cvery once of thun 1s working. You remem- ber Thackeray’s unfinished * Dennis Duval ?? Denmis had a grandfather who was a barber and perruquier, and clder of the Trench Protestant Church at Winchelsea, Dennis himsclf often used to walk from this little town into Ryve, perhaps past this very cottage ! To my mind there is no more restiul or more romantic spot anvwhere than this. You ('an’t cven remember there exists such a thing as : theatre here ! But 111 take you round Lh(, village this afternoon.”

Inside the house was all that was suggested by the outside - all was dainty and m minia- ture. One thing struck me there was not a

single picture of the great actress hersell on friends,

the walls. Tlere were her her two

I a Byoto, by) As “BEAaTRICE” [Window & Grove. Ado about