United States or Mexico ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I used to help him in our home parties at “Gad’s Hill” by carving at a side table, returning to my seat opposite him as soon as my duty was ended. On Christmas Day we all had our glasses filled, and then my father, raising his, would say: “Here’s to us all. God bless us!” a toast which was rapidly and willingly drunk.
After dinner he remained seated in the dining-room, through the evening, as from that room he could see the effect of some lighted Chinese lanterns, which he had hung in the conservatory during the day, and talked to my aunt about his great love for “Gad’s Hill,” his wish that his name might become more associated with the place, and his desire to be buried near it.
But I think that our Christmas and New Year’s tides at “Gad’s Hill” were the happiest of all. Our house was always filled with guests, while a cottage in the village was reserved for the use of the bachelor members of our holiday party. My father himself, always deserted work for the week, and that was almost our greatest treat.
On account of our birds, cats were not allowed in the house; but from a friend in London I received a present of a white kitten—Williamina—and she and her numerous offspring had a happy home at “Gad’s Hill.” She became a favorite with all the household, and showed particular devotion to my father.
In the “Gad’s Hill” days, when the house was full of visitors, he had a peculiar notion of always having the menu for the day’s dinner placed on the sideboard at luncheon time. And then he would discuss every item in his fanciful, humorous way with his guests, much to this effect: “Cock-a-leekie? Good, decidedly good; fried soles with shrimp sauce? Good again; croquettes of chicken?
Many years after, when he was living with his family in a villa near Lausanne, he wrote to a friend: “The green woods and green shades about here are more like Cobham, in Kent, than anything we dream of at the foot of the Alpine passes.” And again, in still later years, one of his favorite walks from “Gad’s Hill” was to a village called Shorne, where there was a quaint old church and graveyard.
I was away in Louisiana at the time, but on my return several attorneys offered to defend John if he would return for trial, but after a visit at the home of our uncle in California he returned to Missouri in the winter of 1873 and 1874, just in time to be suspected of the train robbery at Gad’s Hill, on the Iron Mountain road.
Unpacking these and fitting the pieces together gave them interesting employment, and some topics of conversation for our luncheon party. Our Christmas Day dinners at “Gad’s Hill” were particularly bright and cheery, some of our nearest neighbours joining our home party. The Christmas plum pudding had its own special dish of coloured “repoussé” china, ornamented with holly.
On his return from his last visit to America he wrote a charming account of his welcome home by the dogs at “Gad’s Hill.” “As you ask me about the dogs, I begin with them. When I came down first I came to Gravesend, five miles off.
Fondness for Athletic Sports.—His love of bathing.—His study of the raven.—Calling the doctor in.—My father with our dogs.—The cats of “Gad’s Hill.”—“Bumble” and “Mrs. Bouncer.”—A strange friendship.
Word Of The Day