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 was carved by Tennyson's father; in this there are eleven niches, with a figure of an apostle in each—seven niches over the centre of the fireplace and two on either side. By some error in the design, we were informed, the reverend craftsman had forgotten to provide a niche for the other apostle—surely a strange mistake for a clergyman to make!

In this quiet rectory, right away in the heart of the remote Wolds, Tennyson was born in 1809, whilst still the eventful nineteenth century was young. Under the red roof-trees at the top of the house is situated the attic, "that room—the apple of my heart's delight," as the poet called it. The rectory and garden have happily remained practically unchanged, in all the changeful times that have passed, since those days when the future poet-laureate sang his "matin song" there. At last the hour came when the family had to leave the old home. Tennyson appears to have felt the parting greatly, for he says—

We leave the well-beloved place Where first we gazed upon the sky: The roofs that heard our earliest cry, Will shelter one of stranger race.

But such partings are inevitable in this world; in a restless age that prefers to rent rather than own its own home, even the plaintiveness of such partings appeals but to the few. The modern mind rather loves change than regrets it; the word "home" means not all it used to do in the days ago!

In the illustration of Somersby rectory, as seen from the garden, given herewith, the room in which