looks,--with a somewhat chubby face, admiring and following: Sir Robert,
in a cocked hat, edged with silver lace, a curled short wig, a loose
coat, also edged with silver lace, and with a half humorous expression
on his vulgar countenance, watching them at intervals, as they paraded
through the hall, a large square space, adorned with bas-reliefs and
busts, and containing a bronze copy of the Laocoon, for which Sir Robert
(or rather we English) paid a thousand pounds; or they might be seen
hopping speedily through the ground-floor apartments where there could
be little to arrest the footsteps of the mediaeval-minded Vertue. Who
but a courtier could give one glance at a portrait of George I., though
by Kneller? Who that _was_ a courtier in that house would pause to look
at the resemblance, also by Kneller, of the short-lived, ill-used
Catherine Shorter, the Premier's first wife--even though he still
endured it in his bed-room? a mute reproach for his neglect and
misconduct. So let us hasten to the yellow dining-room where presently
we may admire the works of Titian, Guido, Vanderwerf, and last, not
least, eleven portraits by Vandyck, of the Wharton family, which Sir
Robert bought at the sale of the spendthrift Duke of Wharton.

Then let us glance at the saloon, famed for the four large 'Market
Pieces,' as they were called, by Rubens and Snyders: let us lounge into
what were called the Carlo Maratti and the Vandyck rooms; step we also
into the green velvet bed-chamber, the tapestry-room, the worked bed
chamber; then comes another dining-room: in short, we are lost in wonder
at this noble collection, which cost £40,000.

Many of the pictures were selected and bargained for by Vertue, who, in
Flanders, purchased the Market Pieces referred to, for £428; but did not
secure the 'Fish Market,' and the 'Meat Market,' by the same painter. In
addition to the pictures, the stateliness and beauty of the rooms were