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ssss1.This is evidently an error on the part of the Authoress.

Another juvenile enormity in which we indulged was to warn the tourists, whom we saw approaching the precincts of the labyrinth or maze, not to follow the directions of the gardener, whose aim it was to mislead them, but to listen to our advice, and take the course we prescribed for them. Our delight was unmingled when we heard the gardener, raised aloft on a high seat, feebly attempting to arrest their steps, while our misguided victims steadily pursued the road which led to obstruction.

MR BEER

At that period, the office of Housekeeper was a very important one in the palace—in fact, two privileged persons enjoyed this title. One was a lady, almost invariably a member of the aristocracy, who occupied the apartments, or rather house, now inhabited by H.R.H. Princess Frederica of Hanover.^[16] This lady had the appointment of the Under-Housekeeper, a certain Mrs Beer, whose husband, indeed, was a very great official, and, if I might be excused a vulgarism, thought anything but small beer of himself; he was a dignitary, in every sense of the word, and one of the last of the pig-tails. Between this illustrious character and myself there existed some rivalry and a slight feeling of irritation. I think I may assert without vain-glory, that I knew more about the pictures, their subjects, and their painters, than the presiding spirit; but I am prone to confess that I was one of that troublesome class, a child of an enquiring mind, and I was very fond of “knowing all about it.” Unlike most children, and even many uneducated people, I was a great admirer and lover of the cartoons of Raphael. Of these, Mr Beer never varied in his daily description. He would stand opposite the “Death of Ananias and Sapphira,” and, pointing to the picture, exclaim in a strident voice: “Observe—horror! remorse! fear! drapery!” as an incentive to admiration of what he considered the salient points. When he described the “Charge to Peter,” in tones which he did not intend to be irreverent, but which were undoubtedly threatening, he would cry: “Feed my sheep, feed my lambs,” the terror-inspiring voice according but ill with the sublime calm of the speaker.