of George II. The little rooms of the Prince of Wales's suite next to it have lost their furniture, save the pieces of tapestry worked at Mortlake in Charles II.'s time to commemorate the battle of Solebay. The Venus has gone from the chimneypiece of the Queen's private chapel, but the little marble bath which Caroline used is still in the next room. The King's Gallery has lost the Raffaelle cartoons, and there is little else save the rooms themselves from this point that recalls dapper George till we come to the Queen's great staircase, of which the decoration, unpleasing and uncomely, is by Kent. We turn away our eyes from the work of this architect in the Clock-court; and we may best end our chapter with the charming story Horace Walpole tells of the "beautiful Gunnings" in 1751. They came to the Palace, as folk do now, to see the sights. As they entered the room where hung Kneller's beauties of William III.'s court, another party arrived, and the housekeeper said, "This way, ladies; there are the beauties." "The Gunnings flew into a passion and asked her what she meant; that they came to see the Palace, not to be shown as a sight themselves."
Already the Palace was becoming a show place. It was left to the reminiscences of royalty and to literary associations. Every one, as time went on, came to see it, but no sovereign lived there again. And yet, as Miss Mitford said, "How can anybody leave Hampton Court and live in the Pavilion?"
There is an air of homeliness about the royal life
