Mr. West, a Philadelphian, a most masterly hand in historic painting ; author of the well-known and applauded piece, now in print, called "West's Death of Wolfe," and taken from his painting. He is now at work on a piece called the "Death of Stephen" for the king, and for which he is to have one thousand pounds. Mr. West is the king's history-painter, and was kind enough to put me into a way of obtaining a sight of the queen's palace, which he tells me contains, except Houghton Hall, the finest collection of capital paintings of any house in England. Returned with Mr. Clarke, who was going to see his son Jonathan, sick. . . .
May 7. Attempted to get into Drury Lane theatre, to see Mr. Garrick in the character of Archer, but the crowd so great, that after suffering thumps, squeezes, and almost suffocation for two hours, I was obliged to retire without effecting it. Went to Mr. Silsbee s lodgings to tea. . . .
[June 6.] London, my favorite place of abode, is, as the peasant said, "a sad lickpenny" and truly one cannot breathe the vital air without great expense. The numerous applications to the treasury by Americans whose pretensions are so much beyond mine, exclude the most distant hope of relief for me, should inadvertence or more unjustifiable principles of conduct reduce me to the necessity of asking a favor, which I am determined at all events to defer to the longest period, if it please the great Disposer of events to prolong my uneasy abode ; in this country of aliens for many days yet to come. . . .
[June 10.] I find my finances so visibly lessening, that I wish I could remove from this expensive country, (being heartily tired of it,) and old as I am, would gladly enter into a business connection anywhere consistently with decency and integrity, which I would fain preserve. The use of the property I left behind me I fear I shall never be the better for ; little did I expect from affluence to be reduced to such rigid economy as prudence now exacts. To beg is a meanness I wish never to be reduced to, and to starve is stupid ; one comfort, as I am fast declining into the vale of life, my miseries cannot probably be of long continuance. . . .
[Oct. 31.] By a letter from Mr. Danforth I was informed some of my countrymen were about to apply to the administration for relief. — As my residence has been much longer than the most, and the suddenness of my departure from home rendering it morally impossible for me to become possessed of much money, and my pretensions, for aught I know, being as good as any and better than many, I presume I shall
