The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-07-21
Bulwer Lytton's Home.

The house itself, picturesque enouo
even at Il distance, is doublv 81 vI,e,
seen close at hand, though the nainte'
cupolas and gilded spires suppest a Rns
sian church rather than an Enplisl
manor house, and the incongruous Win,
lately run out from one end Of r. inf
presses one like the half transformc'
figures in Ovid, with the horns of stao
or the claws Of spiders projecting fron
a human body. But the sternest criti,
could find no fault in the iyy-wreathe,
arch OF the gateway, the vast cathedral
IKE windows, the clustering pinnacle,
ana the quaint selni-ccclesiastical archi
ssStMHTe, DTanH which gives 1t tAes; y; Ys SOM.
or Cambridge. Nor could Sir Waltei
Scott himself have wished a finer staot tao
for one Of his ''striking sltuations'' than
the great hall with it's oak panels and If,
stained glass windows, filled with thr
dim religious light" that Milton loved
and hung with banners of every shana
and color, from the pennon bearing the
name of that Sir Turold who fought nt
| Hastings down to the Delhi Standard
which was borne in state before his last
| descendant as Viceroy of India.
In such Il sanctuary of the past tl,c
intrusion of the present seems almost =
Sacrllege. You would hardly wonder
to see the two figures in armor that nanl;
the great Fireplace spring up and extend
their spears to bar your way. A bold
man would be he who should watch here
alone till midnight on the last night of
the year, with the gloomy moon.light
turning the shadows of the banners into
threatening plantoms and bodyinp forth
weird, unearthly shapes from the lalIls-
trades OF The vast oakcn gallery which
0VerShadOWS Il full third of the entire
hall. In such circumstances he might
indeed, like an adventurous Irish friend
OF mine who kept watch in a haunted
house, "eNpcct every moment the an
pearance Of an invisible spirit" But
amld all these ghOStly associations. the
nearly, h0SpltaDle cheerincss oi "Merry
Cngland'' breaks forth mmistaEablv in
the inscription which encirclcs the whole
chamber like garland, in white letters
on a blue ground:
"Read the rcdc Of this It'd roof-trcc:
Here be trust fast, opinion free,
Knightly right hand an, Christian knee
Worth In all, wit in some
Laughter open, slantlcrdumb
Hearth where rooted flienlshps grow
SAFE as altar, even to ftc;
And the sparks that upward 90
When the hearth lametics below,
If thy sap In them maybe
Fear no Winter, old ro,f-,rcc!,
Even more interesting, though less
gloomlly impressive. the adioininr
chamber, with it's prJectinr mantei,
Q'eea, is. ve"eFetl aaJss tA.lSinet 6 N!ttt,..
ing freSs eyes h" isfe ifs Sith S5ith,es ,ses",h
brightest and basest Of English sover-
eigns, in all the fullness of his sleek.
tiger-like beauty, marked contrast
indeed to the quiet, commanding face of
Henry ", mo longer bearing any trace
of the wild Prince Hal of Shakespeare, J
who looks down upon us with the same
stern calmneSs werewith he watched the
armed thousands of France surging UP
around his little handful of starving
men through the cold white mist Of
Agincourt. And at the far end of the
room stands small glass case, brimful
of historical relics that would have
excited the envy of Horace Walpole him
self, foremost amO 6 which appear the
antique inkstand that figured in tho
debates Of the long Parliament, ere
Cromwell came. to purge the floor"
and lock Of hair clipped from Nelson's
corpse Oh the night Of that famous bat.
tle-Sabbath in Trafalgar Bay 7s years
ago.
The Library contains one curiosity, q
clock made at the Industrial School of
Jeypur, the capital of one of the native
States of Western IndiaS 1t is Il queer
affair altogether, to all appearance en-
tirely without works, and looking very
much like a lamp chimney surnOunted
by an eye-glass. Passing the foot of the
great staircase-which is sentineled by
Il life-iike oil painting of Lord Bcacons.
ficld-We enter the portrait gallery, now
flooded with a series of glory by the sun
light which is streaming through the
crimson curtains, and giving added color
and beauty to the grand procession of
historical faces along either wall. Here,
bclying her masculine dress by the vol
uptuOus SoftneSs of the features that
cnthralled Charles H., appears "wild
Lucy Walters," mother Of that ill-fatcd
Duke Of Monmouth whose rash clutch
at Il crown to which he had no claim,
brought down upon Western England
horrors worse than those of Cawnpore
Here looks out from beneath his massive
forehead, the large, thoughtful, earnest
eye Of Sir Thomas Moore, the noblest
man of his day in England, and, there.
fore as a matter Of course, sent out O
England and the world by the heads
mans axe as speedily as possible. Herr
stands Anne of Austria, Louis KIP.
unfaithful Queen, imprisoned in tight
waistcd scarlet dress, and showing littl
of the beauty which captivated the vola
tile Duke Of Buckingham, but much 0
the haughtiness which SHE bequeathet
to her son Louis XIV. Here, in TIN
commanding attitude which dismayet
the terccst Rcvolutionists Of France
towers the colossal ugliness of Mirabcau
half redeemed by the stern, daring
dauntless spirit that looks through it
And here, last and greatest Of all, stand
brave Robert Blake, Oh the stern ant
solemn beauty of whose noble face rest
the same look of calm and fearless self
reliance with which he confronted th'
pixies Of Goring and the cannon Of Val
Tromp, or sailed foremost into the hell
fire of the Tunis corsairs at Goletta.
Beyond tho portrait gallery lies th'
study where the late Lord I.ytton use'
to write, which is as simple as the i'm
mediate surroundings Of famous mel
should always be. A small room, a plail
central table, bust Of the Khedive, an
a cast of Michael Angelo's Moses OH tn
Notwithstanding more. But tn
fine oriel window and the beautiful VieN