come to America, established himself at Mill Grove Farm, the adjoining estate to Fatland, it chanced that England and France were engaged in hostilities. As Mr. Bakewell was English, Audubon hated him ipso facto and studiously avoided meeting him. The farmer at Mill Grove tried to dissuade him from this course, telling him how estimable a gentleman Mr. Bakewell was, but without avail. At last, one day, Audubon while out hunting accidentally fell in with Mr. Bakewell, who was a keen sportsman, and, without knowing who he was, engaged in conversation with him. When at length the identity of each became known to the other the ice had been broken and it was not long before Audubon accepted Mr. Bakewell's courteous invitation to call at Fatland.

On his first going there Mr. Bakewell was from home, but Miss Lucy did the honours so delightfully until her father returned that it was not long before the naturalist repeated this visit. He also found Mr. Bakewell a congenial spirit interested in scientific and literary pursuits. The intimacy between Fatland and Mill Grove soon became firmly established and reached its logical culmination when Miss Lucy consented, with her father's approval, to become Madame Audubon.

In 1825, Fatland passed by purchase to a branch of the Wetherill family and has remained in their possession ever since. Samuel Wetherill, the purchaser of the estate, lived at Fatland till his death in 1829, and his widow continued there for a number of years after. In 1882 she built the Union Church, not far distant and although, at that time, she had joined the Episcopal Church, nevertheless, out of regard for her husband, who had been an active

member of the Free Quaker Society, she saw to it that the edifice, as far as practicable, should resemble a Quaker meeting house in both its inside and outside appearance.

On the side opposite the door is an old-fashioned threedeck pulpit flanked on either hand by an unusually high balustrade with tall and narrow spindles. A former rector, a man of commanding physique and stature, none too large for his pulpit, however, being absent on one occasion, his place was supplied by a worthy but small and excessively pompous brother-clergyman weighed down by the sense of his own dignity. Before the service, the sexton, taking the measure of the reverend gentleman's inches, thoughtfully suggested placing a box in the pulpit for him to stand on, but this offer the small ecclesiastic indignantly resented. When sermon time came he sailed majestically up to the appointed place, but alas, the top of his head barely reached the desk. It was manifestly impossible to roar forth his exhortation unseeing and unseen, so he stepped to one side, peered through the balustrade, grasping a spindle in each hand and, looking in his full-flowing surplice for all the world like a polar bear behind the bars of a cage, announced his text, “It is I, be not afraid." The congregation was convulsed.

About 1845, after Mrs. Wetherill's death, in the settlement of the estate, Fatland came to her son, the late Doctor William Wetherill. Owing to the decayed condition of the house, Doctor Wetherill tore it down to the ground and on the same foundations built the present structure in a somewhat more elaborate style, though preserving, from motives of sentiment, substantially the lines of the original building. In front and in the back, six

great Ionic columns support the lofty roof of the portico that extends across the main portion of the house. At one side a long wing is taken up by the dining-room, the breakfast-room and the pantries, while in the basement are the kitchens and various offices. On the second floor of the wing are ample provisions for the nurseries and for the quarters of the house servants. The interior adornment of the house, which was at that time said to be the handsomest in Pennsylvania, was most elaborate. Delicately carved marble mantelpieces were cause for proper pride. The walls were hung with paper brought from France and along the halls and opposite the nurseries was a full portrayal in colours of Polonius giving advice to his son.

The dining-room is of truly generous proportions, and had need to be for the lavish entertaining that was done there. It was no unusual thing for fifty people to sit down to dinner and on the occasion of Doctor Wetherill's birthday parties in February sometimes as many as eighty guests would take their places at the table. Open-handed hospitality was ever the rule at Fatland and was not confined exclusively to the personal friends and acquaintances of the owner. When the Wetherill Blues, a military body named in honour of Doctor Wetherill who had organised it, were mustered out after the Civil War they were so unstintedly fêted at Fatland that for two weeks echoes of good cheer were ringing through the countryside. Not very far from the house, at the edge of the woods, are the Bakewell graves-Mr. Bakewell though buried at first in Philadelphia was afterward laid beside his wife