call, it is so unusual to find a live lion included amongst the
guests, that my mother's perturbation at finding herself in such
close proximity to a huge loose carnivore is, perhaps, pardonable.
Landseer is, of course, no longer in fashion as a painter. I quite
own that at times his colour is unpleasing, owing to the bluish
tint overlaying it; but surely no one will question his
draughtsmanship? And has there ever been a finer animal-painter?
Perhaps he was really a black-and-white man. My family possess
some three hundred drawings of his: some in pen and ink, some in
wash, some in pencil. I personally prefer his very delicate pencil
work, over which he sometimes threw a light wash of colour. No
one, seeing some of his pen and ink work, can deny that he was a
master of line. A dozen scratches, and the whole picture is there!
There is a charming little Landseer portrait of my mother with my
eldest sister, in Room III of the Tate Gallery. Landseer preferred
painting on panel, and he never would allow his pictures to be
varnished. His wishes have been obeyed in that respect; none of
the Landseers my family possess have ever been varnished.

He was certainly an unconventional guest in a country house. My
father had rented a deer-forest on a long lease from Cluny
Macpherson, and had built a large house there, on Loch Laggan. As
that was before the days of railways, the interior of the house at
Ardverikie was necessarily very plain, and the rooms were merely
whitewashed. Landseer complained that the glare of the whitewash
in the dining-room hurt his eyes, and without saying a word to any
one, he one day produced his colours, mounted a pair of steps, and
proceeded to rough-in a design in charcoal on the white walls. He
worked away until he had completely covered the walls with
frescoes in colour. The originals of some of his best-known