[26] This illustration and those on pages 114 and 123, have been made from photographs by J. Hedderly, and are admirable specimens of the many taken by him during a long and laborious life, and which have genuine artistic merit as well as historic value in their preservation of the features of Old Chelsea. Hedderly’s was the curious case of a man living for fifty years in daily contact with the ancient and the odd, and yet always keen to appreciate it and accurate in seizing it. On his death, in 1885, his plates went to his daughter, and the photographs can be bought from George White, Printer, 396, King’s Road, just at the end of Park Walk: by whose permission these photographs have been re-drawn.[31] One of her school-mates here, by the way, was that Miss Roberts who wrote so well about India; another was Lady Caroline Lamb, heroine of the scissors-stabbing scene for Byron’s sake. And among other scholars here at other times we find names famous in later life, as that of Lady Bulwer, of Mrs. S. C. Hall, of Miss Mary Russell Mitford. The latter lady lived for several years after her school days at No. 33, Hans Place. In No. 41 lodged Percy Bysshe Shelley, at one time. These two last-named houses have been raised two stories, and renewed; while Nos. 22 and 25 have been recently torn down and rebuilt. Thus every house in Hans Place having historic association has been ruined for us, and others of no interest from our point of view in this stroll are left intact in their age—a queer fatality which I find to have pursued too many buildings of old London![48] The painting in the National Portrait Gallery is a copy by an unknown—withal a skilful—hand, of Holbein’s crayon sketch, now in Windsor Castle. Its most striking feature is More’s mouth: these lips seem to speak to us at once with sweetness and with sternness.[57] In our reproduction of this rare print in the British Museum of about the year 1682, Lindsey House is seen on the river bank at the extreme left; behind it is a building in the Dutch style, concerning which I can find no record anywhere; More’s mansion stands on the slope half-way up to King’s Road, in the midst of its “great extent of profitable garden and pleasure ground;” behind and to its left are the stables and out-buildings. Just beyond King’s Road, on the left, may be seen the small settlement named then and known now as “Little Chelsea.” In the far distance, rise, on their wooded slopes, Holland, Camden, and Kensington Houses. The gate-house of Inigo Jones shows plainly towards the front, and from it the broad walk—now Beaufort Street—leads to the river and the ferry, just at the spot where now springs Battersea Bridge.[58] You may see a picture of such a scene—the sermon to a group of negroes—in the old Moravian chapel in Fetter Lane. Here, too, are many relics of interest of the man: his chair, with claw feet and curious carvings; his queer old-German Hymn-book, printed in 1566, with metal clasps and corners; and his portrait, life-size and in oil.[80] There lies on my desk, as I write, a copper token, which I lately picked up in a shabby shop of Red Lion Passage, High Holborn. It is about the size of a penny piece, and on it is stamped “Ranelagh House, 1745:” these raised letters as clearly cut as on the day when coined. It pleases me to wonder which and how many of the men I mention above may have handed in this piece at the entrance gate.[91] Henri, Marquis of Ruvigny, fled from France on the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, came to England, was here naturalized, and received the title of Count of Galloway.[109] In the embankment garden, just in front, has lately been placed a memorial to the poet and painter: his bust in bronze modelled by Ford Madox Brown, the painter, surmounting a graceful drinking fountain designed by John P. Seddon, the architect; both life-long friends of Rossetti.[125] This house was kept, in 1790, by a Mrs. Mary Jacob, a New England woman, and I have seen a letter from her to her brother in America, in which she says, in her old-fashioned spelling: “I keap a Coffe Hous, which I can Scarcely macke a bit of Bred for myself, but it Ennabels me to keep a home for my Sons.” This letter is prized as a relic by the family, none of whom have any notion of how “Polly Cummings”—her maiden name in New England—found her way to Chelsea and to Don Saltero’s![160] I quote this sentence from a letter sent to me by the Reverend R. H. Davies, Incumbent of the Old Church, Chelsea, to whom I am indebted for courtesies in this connection: “To my mind, there is no doubt that his grave is somewhere in the open part of the churchyard; but, as the grave-stone has disappeared, it would be too great a work to excavate the whole with the hope of finding the coffin-plate.”