and seeing fresh countries. London was of course his head-quarters, and he had towards London very much the same feehng as Dr Johnson: "The happiness of London is not to be conceived but by those who have been in it. London is nothing to some people, but to a man whose pleasure is intellectual London is the place."
H. H. also shared Dr Johnson's antipathy to Scotland. This was perhaps the more extraordinary, in that it was the only country in the world that anyone ever heard him mention without some warm words of appreciation. His prejudice was founded on his one and only visit to Scotland. He arrived at Edinburgh early one Sunday morning to find the rain descending in torrents and a hurricane blowing. There were no cabs at the station and there appeared to be no means of reaching his hotel. The only other passenger was Lord Aberdeen, and together they waited for some chance conveyance. At length, a rattle of wheels was heard and a milk-cart came into sight. The obliging milkman allowed them to stand up in his cart, and drove them off in triumph along Princes Street! It was in vain that the younger members of H. H.'s family lauded the glories of the Highlands: to him Scotland always remained a rain-sodden morass where the inhabitants invariably drove about in milk-carts.
Ireland, on the other hand, was the country of his heart. Irish songs, Irish poetry, soft Irish voices, all made an irresistible appeal to him. For many years he and Lady Heaton spent every Whitsuntide in Ireland, and counted it among their happiest memories. There was something akin to his own nature in the spontaneous warmth he met on all
