It was a pleasant old house, with a garden only divided from the park of Hillingdon House by a ha-ha, and with a wall on one side of good old red brick from which mullions sprouted, and almost covered by creepers, a magnificent purple clematis especially delighting the eye. Half-way down the wall a garden room or orangery was built out, which was used for keeping garden chairs and games, and where sometimes excellent and hospitable afternoon teas were served when it was damp, or too late in the year for the usual tea in the garden, and not late enough to be confined to the house. Through the wall a door opened on to a space devoted to poultry and pigs (where Betsy the old sow, who was quite a personage, brought up many a succulent family), then to a paddock for the cows, and finally to a good kitchen garden with a shrubbery walk up one side.
The drawing-room, with its dark blue walls and curtains, fine old china, and few good pictures, such as a graceful portrait of one ancestress, sitting in the grounds of her home, the Chateau de Prangin, near Geneva, and an excellent pastel of another, is a memory full of charm. To one little grandson, who was always a welcome visitor in later years, the whole place was an enchanted palace, where he was busy from morning till night with one fascinating occupation after another, in the company of " young grandpapa," as he was always called, or the much-loved aunts.
It was thought by many to be very extraordinary that a man who had lived all his life in London, a busy, fully occupied life surrounded by people and movement of all sorts, should be able to settle down to a quiet country existence, with no special occupation and very little society outside his own family. He took great interest in the town of Uxbridge and in the affairs of his own parish, but such work as he did occupied but little of his time, though of the utmost value to those concerned. He took long walks and read enormously, and his essentially contented mind prevented his feeling dull or bored.
Seeing that his life had been passed almost exclusively in London, his knowledge of country things was remarkable, and he specially prided himself upon knowing the names of trees, however unusual and unknown to people in general. I can see now the sceptical annoyance expressed on the countenance of a country gentleman who was puzzled about a peculiar tree in his grounds, which Sir William at once pronounced to be an abele tree (species of poplar), and this, to his host's great surprise, proved to be the correct name. •
He had a great love for animals, and in earlj'" days in London possessed a delightful Scotch terrier. This dog lived to be sixteen years old, and was a friend up to the last, sleeping in his master's room and taking long walks with him. The crust he always had at breakfasttime could not be properly enjoyed unless his master threw it some distance; then, being retrieved and well shaken, it was held between the fore-paws and gnawed in a sort of savage triumph. Peace to his ashes! Many a man might be glad to add as much to the joy of life, and to be as long and truly mourned as this good old four-footed friend.
Another favourite was a bullfinch belonging to his youngest daughter. " Bully " had been trained as a piping bullfinch, but soon forgot his tiresome tune, retaining only the beautiful acquired whistle so unlike the monotonous note of the bird in its wild state.
Sir William was so little at home on week-days that he seldom heard the bird's song, but on Sundays, if Bully began his soft strain (and very soft it was, a sort of whispered harmonious chuckle), nothing would induce him to leave the room, and the rest of the party would often go off to luncheon leaving him entranced.
He was always good to the dogs that belonged to other people, but latterly had none of his own, keenly feeling the anxiety of being responsible for all the possibilities of unlawful hunting, fighting, and the like, which he no longer cared to encounter. A pet cat was, however, felt to be not so disturbing an element; he was soft, and warm, and quiet, and though very selfish and always taking possession of the most comfortable chair if he had the chance, which his master permitted him to retain when he found him there, " Tummy " was in a way attached to his master, and would even slowly trot across the lawn to join him in a quiet stroll.
This peaceful country life continued undisturbed for a few years only. In 1883 came the unexpected and terrible blow of his wife's death. After a small children's party at The Chestnuts, she was going to her room, apparently in her usual health, when one of her daughters, who was following her, saw a painful change come over her face; an illness followed from which she never rallied. A few weeks she lingered, and then that very beautiful life was ended.