Tracks of a Rolling Stone

were abnormally tender ones. They might have been made of corns, certainly not of cork.

Another discovery I made about this period was, for me at least, a 'record': it happened at Quidenham - my grandfather the 4th Lord Albemarle's place.

Some excursion was afoot, which needed an early breakfast. When this was half over, one married couple were missing. My grandfather called me to him (I was playing with another small boy in one of the window bays). 'Go and tell Lady Maria, with my love,' said he, 'that we shall start in half an hour. Stop, stop a minute. Be sure you knock at the door.' I obeyed orders - I knocked at the door, but failed to wait for an answer. I entered without it. And what did I behold? Lady Maria was still in bed; and by the side of Lady M. was, very naturally, Lady M.'s husband, also in bed and fast asleep. At first I could hardly believe my senses. It was within the range of my experience that boys of my age occasionally slept in the same bed. But that