Neapolitan Psyche, given to his brother-in-law, Mr. William Hamilton, by the King of Naples), formed the entrance.  The oval drawing-room, painted in fresco by Mr. F——­, recalled by its Italian scenes their wanderings in the south of Europe.  In the adjoining room were some choice pictures, among others a fine copy of one of Titian’s Venuses, and in the dining-room an equally good one of his Venus and Adonis.  The place of honor, however, in this room was reserved for a life-size, full-length portrait of Mrs. Siddons, which Lawrence painted for Mrs. F——­ and which is now in the National Gallery,—­a production so little to my taste both as picture and portrait that I used to wonder how Mrs. F——­ could tolerate such a representation of her admirable friend.  The principal charm of Bannisters, however, was the garden and grounds, which, though of inconsiderable extent, were so skillfully and tastefully laid out, that their bounds were always invisible.  The lawn and shrubberies were picturesquely irregular, and still retained some kindred, in their fine oaks and patches of heather, to the beautiful wild common which lay immediately beyond their precincts.  A pretty piece of ornamental water was set in flowering bushes and well-contrived rockery, and in a more remote part of the grounds a little dark pond reflected wild-wood banks and fine overspreading elms and beeches.  The small park had some charming clumps and single trees, and there was a twilight walk of gigantic overarching laurels, of a growth that dated back to a time of considerable antiquity, when the place had been part of an ancient monastery.  Above all, I delighted in my friend E——­’s favorite flower-garden, where her fine eye for color reveled in grouping the softest, gayest, and richest masses of bloom, and where in a bay of mossy turf, screened round with evergreens, the ancient vision of love and immortality, the antique Cupid and Psyche, watched over the fragrant, flowery domain.

Sweet Bannisters! to me for ever a refuge of consolation and sympathy in seasons of trial and sorrow, of unfailing kindly welcome and devoted constant affection; haven of pleasant rest and calm repose whenever I resorted to it!  How sad was my last visit to that once lovely and beloved place, now passed into the hands of strangers, deserted, divided, desecrated, where it was painful even to call up the image of her whose home it once was!  The last time I saw Bannisters the grounds were parceled out and let for grazing inclosures to various Southampton townspeople.  The house was turned into a boys’ boarding-school, and, as I hurried away, the shouts and acclamations of a roaring game of cricket came to me from the inclosure that had been E——­ F——­’s flower-garden; but though I was crying bitter tears the lads seemed very happy; the fashion of this world passeth away.