Here follows another fresh air holiday at my grandparents’ at Worthing (where I rode with my grandfather), finishing up with a visit which I shall always remember with pleasure--I ought to say gratitude--not only for its own sake, but for all the enjoyment it obtained for me in Italy. That August I was a guest of the Higford-Burrs at Aldermaston Court, an Elizabethan house standing in a big Berkshire park. “I arrived just as the company were finishing dinner. I was welcomed with open arms. Mrs. Higford-Burr embraced me, although I have only seen her twice before, and I was made to sit down at table in my travelling dress, positively declining to recall dishes, hating a fuss as I do. The dessert was pleasant because every one made me feel at home, especially Mrs. Janet Ross, daughter of the Lady Duff Gordon whose writings had made me long to see the Nile in my childhood. There are five lakes in the Park, and one part is a heather-covered Common, of which I have made eight oil sketches on my little panels, so that I have had the pleasure of working hard and enjoying the society of most delightful people. There were always other guests at dinner besides the house party, and the average number who sat down was eighteen. Besides Mrs. Ross were Mr. and Mrs. Layard, he the Nineveh explorer, and now Ambassador at Madrid, the Poynters, R.A., the Misses Duff Gordon, and others, in the house. Mrs. Burr with her great tact allowed me to absent myself between breakfast and tea, taking my sandwiches and paints with me to the moor.”
Days at Worthing followed, where my mother and I painted all day on the Downs, I with my “Balaclava” in view, which required a valley and low hills. My mother’s help was of great value, as I had not had much time to practise landscape up to then. Then came my visit, with Alice, to Newcastle, where “Quatre Bras” was being exhibited, to be followed by our visit at Mrs. Ross’s Villa near Florence, whither she had invited us when at Aldermaston, to see the _fêtes_ in honour of Michael Angelo.
“We left for Newcastle by the ‘Flying Scotchman’ from King’s Cross at 10 a.m., and had a flying shot at Peterborough and York Cathedrals, and a fine flying view of Durham. Newcastle impressed us very much as we thundered over the iron bridge across the Tyne and looked down on the smoke-shrouded, red-roofed city belching forth black and brown smoke and jets of white steam in all directions. It rises in fine masses up from the turbid flood of the dark river, and has a lurid grandeur quite novel to us. I could not help admiring it, though, as it were, under protest, for it seems to me something like a sin to obscure the light of Heaven when it is not necessary. The laws for consuming factory smoke are quite disregarded here. Mrs. Mawson, representing the firm at whose gallery ‘Quatre Bras’ is being exhibited, was awaiting our arrival, and was to be our hostess. We were honoured and fêted in the way of the warm-hearted North. Nothing could have been more successful than our visit in its way. These Northerners are most hospitable, and we are delighted with them. They have quite a _cachet_ of their own, so cultured and well read on the top of their intense commercialism--far more responsive in conversation than many society people I know ‘down South.’ We had a day at Durham under Mrs. Mawson’s wing, visiting that finest of all English Cathedrals (to my mind), and the Bishop’s palace, etc. We rested at the Dean’s, where, of course, I was asked for my autograph. I already find how interested the people are about here, more even than in other parts where I have been. Durham is a place I loved before I saw it. The way that grand mass of Norman architecture rises abruptly from the woods that slope sheer down to the calm river is a unique thing. Of course, the smoky atmosphere makes architectural ornament look shallow by dimming the deep shadows of carvings, etc.--a great pity. On our return we took another lion _en passant_--my picture at Newcastle, and most delighted I was to find it so well lighted. I may say I have never seen it properly before, because it never looked so well in my studio, and as to the Black Hole----! What people they are up here for shaking hands! When some one is brought up to me the introducer puts it in this way: ‘Mr. So-and-So wishes very much to have the honour of shaking hands with you, Miss Thompson.’ There is a straight-forward ring in their speech which I like.”