are! for Mr. Onslow has contributed "A Flower-Piece;" and, if ever man talked poppies and tulips, it is our worthy and flowery speaker. "A Head Unfinished" is by Lord Townshend, of whom his colleague said, "that his brains wanted nothing but ballast!" Mr. Booth obliges us with "A Mist." He ought to be able to paint it most accurately, for he always seems in one.
Next week we go to Lord Burlington, a nobleman to whose taste for building the world is indebted for one of its chief pleasures; namely, that of finding fault. Two noble friends dined with him in his new house in Piccadilly, and next day circulated the following epigram:—
"Possessed of one great hall for state,
Without a room to sleep or eat;
How well you build, let flattery tell,
And all the world, how ill you dwell."
We, however, are going to the villa at Chiswick, of which Dr. Arbuthnot says, that "it is fitted up with a cold in every corner, and a consumption by way of perspective."
