carriage by road from Tsarskoe Selo of one hundred specially grown
large palm trees in specially constructed frost-proof vans; there was
also the heavy cost of the supper and wine, which for the "Bals des
Palmiers" was provided on a far more sumptuous scale than at the
ordinary Court entertainments and balls.

Ichabod! Ichabod!

Certain names carry their own responsibilities; for instance, when a
town proudly proclaimed itself the "City of Good Airs" it should live
up to its title. The Buenos Ayres of the early "eighties" was a
notoriously insanitary place without any system of proper drainage.
Some of the "Good Airs" fairly knocked one down when one encountered
them. That has all now been rectified; Buenos Ayres is at present
admirably drained, and is one of the healthiest cities of South
America.

Certain names, again, have their drawbacks. Helen Lady Dufferin, the
mother of my old Chief and godfather, was the grand-daughter of
Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and in common with her two sisters, the
Duchess of Somerset and Mrs. Norton, she had inherited her full share
of the Sheridan wit. As I have pointed out elsewhere, people of a
certain class in London maintained in those days far closer relations
with persons of a corresponding class in Paris than is the custom now.
Lady Dufferin had innumerable friends in Paris, and amongst the oldest
of these friends was Comte Joseph de Noailles. Whenever the Comte de
Noailles came to London, Lady Dufferin was the first person he went to
see. When they were both in their old age, the Comte de Noailles
arrived in London, and, as usual, went to dine with his friend of many
years. As it was a warm evening in July, he walked to Lady Dufferin's