In gluttony, he was fully equal to his wife, and cared more for his claret and calvered salmon, than for all the interests of Europe.

In William the Third's time, Kensington had served the purpose of a regal town-house, for that monarch spent much of the summer months in his own beloved Holland. But in Anne's reign, Kensington became the summer Palace, and St. James's the town residence. The Queen always spent the early summer at Kensington, and paid it casual visits during the remainder of the year.

She made many improvements in the house and gardens. One of her first acts was to commence the banqueting-room which stands a few yards to the north of the Palace, and now serves as an occasional greenhouse. In its present condition it is a striking illustration of the well-known definition of rubbish-" matter in its wrong place." A wooden shed or a temporary glasshouse would answer equally well for its present purposes. Standing among the heterogeneous mixture of plants which it now contains, we cannot but fancy that the old niches, friezes, and cornices look mournfully down on the mud-stained floor, thinking, perhaps

regretfully of the gay crowds that once laughed, talked, and jested within these walls, of the state affairs, the coquetting words, perhaps even the whispered sentences of love that may have stolen from the plumed and furbelowed courtiers and maids of honour a centuryand-a-half ago. Poor walls, how the trundle of the gardener's barrow must jar on their feelings! with what scorn must they, who remember the sword, cocked hats, and ruffles of Queen Anne's reign, gaze on the walking sticks, chimney-pot hats, and scarcely perceptible cuffs of such stray adventurers as ourselves who may dare to molest their solitude.

At each end of the banqueting-room are two small circular appartments-one was a drawing-room and the other a music-room, while the centre itself originally served for a ball-room. In fact the banquetingroom deserves its name about as much as the German banquet," which often consists of speeches, dancing, and beer. But gastronomy was certainly more suitable to Anne's character than dancing, though that exercise was once recommended to her as a cure for her attacks of gout. In this room the Queen gave concerts and balls, on which occasions the public were

admitted into Kensington Gardens, on condition of appearing in full dress. Kensingtonians will remember the alcove which once stood at the back of Kensington High-street, and which we one day missed, and at last discovered that it had walked off to a more eligible position where it might enjoy an uninterrupted view of the fountains. This alcove, in the days of its youth, afforded a convenient shelter for a lady who wished to adjust her brocaded robe, or a resting place for gaily plumed promenaders overpowered by the weight of their hoops, periwigs, ribbands, and feathers. Even those who had no court dress, and could not therefore claim admittance to the gardens, were not altogether shut out. Hyde Park was then bounded by the Broad Walk, and anyone might peep through the railings and watch all the fine "goings on" in the banqueting-hall and the gardens.

Sometimes the programme was varied by music, and, D'Urfey, the poet-laureate of that time wrote, "'Twas within a mile of Edinboro' town" especially for one of these concerts. Dramatic performances, too, occasionally took place here. The author of "Robinson Crusoe," Daniel De Foe, notes that "after the

Queen had built her greenhouse at Kensington Palace she was pleased to make it her summer suppingroom." Alas, to what base uses things may degenerate!

The Queen's every day life at Kensington was a strange compound of routine and excitement; of state concerns and of court etiquette. Here she held her cabinet councils, gave or took back the seals of her Lord Keepers, and the white staves of her Lord Treasurers. Here Swift received his deanery, and here the Duchess of Marlborough had her last interview. Here, too, rolled on that unvarying round of court ceremonies, so precise and numerous as to be almost distressing. Fortunately Anne was fond of such matters. She could not dress without one person to hand her her clothes and another to put them on-a page, a lady of the bedchamber, and an attendant to help her wash her hands, while it took the same number of persons to hand her her wine glass at the dinnertable. Such a proceeding would certainly take all the "fiz" off a glass of champagne; only fortunately that wine did not become a fashionable beverage till more than half-a-century later. Dinner was the great event

of her day, she would sit with her fan in her mouth waiting for the meal to be announced, occasionally saying a few words and then relapsing into gastronomic expectancy. The Queen dined at three, and fortified by the meal, afterwards discussed state affairs, or held her cabinet councils. Six o'clock on Sunday was the favourite time for the latter. Pope's lines on Hampton Court apply equally well to Kensington

"Where thou, great Anna, whom three realms obey,

Did sometimes council take, and sometimes tea."

Only, as we have said before, Anne's favourite beverage was chocolate, which she took late in the evening, just before retiring to rest. The Queen cared for little beyond the routine of the court, and found pleasure in this humdrum, monotonous life. Only when engaged in card-playing did she cease to remember the little details of regal etiquette, which it was her peculiar delight to see carried out to the letter. When seated at the basset table, she was often so jostled by the players that she could scarcely put her hand in her pocket, and yet so absorbed would she be in the chances of the game that she would scarcely notice the indignity.