Providence hath ordered it, they both play on the harpsichord, and at chess. I am flattered with the hopes of engaging with them, before long, either in war or harmony—not to-day—because whether you know it or not, it is Sunday. I know it having been paying my devotions—our church, the hall—our minister, a sleek young parson, the curate of the parish our saints, a naked Mercury, an Apollo in the same dress, and a Venus de Medicis—our congregation, the two ladies, Captain Blankett, and your humble servant, upon the carpet by the minister—below the domestics, superioris et inferioris ordinis. Among the former I was concerned to see poor Mathews the librarian, who I could not help thinking had as good a right to be upon the carpet as myself.
"Of Lord Fitzmaurice I know nothing, but from his bust and his letters: the first bespeaks him a handsome youth, the latter an ingenious one. He is not sixteen, and already he writes better than his father. He is under the care of a Mr. Jervis, a dissenting minister, who has had the care of him since he was six years old. He has never been at any public school of education. He has now for a considerable time been travelling about the kingdom that he may know something of his own country before he goes to others, and be out of the way of adulation."[1]
"Tuesday, August 28th.
"I have just been playing billiards with Lady Shelburne. Miss Vernon looked on, but would not play, saying she had never played before. There is an event for you. By-and-by I shall come to telling you every time I buckle my shoe. I almost despair of getting them to do the harpsichord. To-morrow, however, the house I hope will be clear; and then perhaps I shall have some chance. The chess and the billiards were her own proposal: the harpsichord I must beg and pray for."[2]
