talk of peace one way or another, and all are preparing to visit Paris, and that great ice-house Switzerland, and the Eternal City, and the firework at Naples-in plain English, to leave home and go abroad. So pray come in time, for I will of your party and no other. As to Fin, how he must triumph in the fulfilment of all his predictions and how small we shall all feel before him! My summer was passed I don't know how-in other people's houses at Hampden, Bow-wood, Bulstrode, Woolbeding, Althorpe, and Middleton: I am now at home, and against you arrive, I shall write over my door Accommodation for Private Families.' Remember I have three very decent chambers, and there are excellent hotels in St James's Street to receive my overflowings. for Charles and Henry, I have a coal-hole just to their taste, and the river is at hand for Fin the less. I would send you my budget of news —such as it is; but perhaps the news of tomorrow will contradict it all, and Lady Donegal is now giving it to you in a much better manner. So pray remember me very affectionately to the chief and his two sons (Johnson and Crib), and believe me to be, ever and ever yours,

"SAMUEL ROGERS."

The Same to the Same.

"LONDON.

As

"Lady Donegal came from Tunbridge to Davis Street on Thursday last, and in a week goes to Lady Shaftesbury for a month. Lady Chatham

has just given up the house. Lady Ellenborough is now at Brighton, and stays there till after Christmas. She is said to look very ill. Lord Warwick has been among the agrémens of Tunbridge this summer! Souza has been constant to Worthing. Spencer has spent the best part of his summer at Gilwele. His spirits are not as they used to be, and I wish we could remove the cause with all my heart. I confess I am not very sanguine with regard to Drury Lane. So Susan Beckford has accepted Lord Henry Petty, and Lady Donegal Lord Mount Edgcumbe! How entertaining the newspapers are just now! The Clifdens left Tunbridge on Saturday; Lady C. was in her old house, it seems. Mrs Spencer looks better than ever she did, and exhibits her Tunbridge donkey every morning in a kind of car or cart that runs on three wheels-she looks for all the world like a sorceress in a pantomime. The day has turned to rain, and how do you think Mr and Mrs Spencer are employed at this moment? -in playing at battledore and shuttlecock in my room! I can hardly write for the noise. What I have written I don't know, and I have not the courage to read it, but I know you will take it all as it is meant, and believe me when I assure you how sincerely and gratefully I am yours, "SAMUEL ROGERS."

"Pray kiss them both for me, though Mr M. has now, I daresay, no recollection of any of us. "How did you bewitch Caroline Chinnery? Her friendship for you is a passion. She dreams

of nobody else, but she can make others dream of her, for she used to play her harp every morning under my window between seven and eight o'clock.

"Poor Mrs Hope was greatly affected by the loss of her mother. Mr H. was travelling in Devonshire at the time, and when he returned, as he did instantly, to Ramsgate, he found her confined to her room: they are now at Gatton. She knows nothing of the Criticism in the Edinburgh Review'; he told me he should not mention it to her, he knew it would vex her so. He affects to carry it off, but I can see he is hurt by it. Mrs Spencer desires her best love to you. 'I wish, I wish she was coming back,' were her words on the stairs just now. Once more adieu. I have still a thousand things to say, though at first I thought I had nothing."

The Same to the Same.

"ST JAMES'S PLACE, May Day, 1808.

"I have really held my tongue so long I don't know how to speak or what to say. You know a mother, and so do I-Mrs Bouverie-who looks up her girls when they have a letter to write, and I wish I had an old housekeeper who would do me the same kindness. You would suffer much by it, and the other day you had a great escape. M. Godfrey was all fire and fagot at your long silence, and in the true spirit of knight-errantry I had just resolved to redress her wrongs, when an epistle arrived and saved you from a packet as large as a mortgage-deed. If I have not assailed you sooner

it is not for want of a Flapper. M. G.'s first question, morning, noon, and night, in parks and streets and crowded assemblies, is, 'Have you written to Lady Susan?' Their description of Tunbridge last year is most provoking. Can Can you

believe it was delightful? I never will. Viotti offered to go if I would, and yet he swears he will never enter the doors in Berkeley Street till your harp is again in the drawing-room. We were very sorry to hear you had all been ill."

The Same to the Same.

"LONDON, July 12th.

'A thousand thanks, my dear friend, for your kind letter, and a thousand more to your divine Susan1 for all her kindness. Many a time in the dead of the night have I addressed a letter to her, but it was all gone before daylight, and twice have I taken up a pen for the purpose, but my evil genius prevailed, and I was called off by a knock at the door, and his sudden appearance in the shape of some dandy. The other day I said to Spencer, 'How is it that all our old friends have dropped away from us one by one?' 'Not the Dunmores,' he said; 'they are still as much our own as ever.' . . . The Lansdownes are once more among us, and full of Italy. Lady Jersey is at Paris, and Lady Orford established at Calais. She was in London for a few hours the other day, but I did not see her. Why did you not come this spring? We have had Talma, and Crabbe the

1 Lady Susan Hamilton, Duchess of Newcastle.

poet, the Waterloo Bridge and the Sapient Pig. Lord Webbe paid us a long visit, and was my great comfort. To-morrow I set off for Paris for three weeks with Lalla Rookh: if I am not surfeited there or drowned by the way, you may perhaps see me notwithstanding-I do not despair-but at all events I will write to the Lady of the Glen. God bless you and yours."

The Same to the Same.

"ULLESWATER, August 13th, 1812.

"Pray, where are you at this moment? I am sitting at an oak table in the little village of Patterdale, the lake in full view, and all the world out a-haymaking up and down the valley, not excepting the King himself-for you must know Patterdale is a kingdom, and has a king of its own! He is now without coat or waistcoat on the margin of the lakes, attended by their Royal Highnesses the Princesses, while the Reverend Rector, in the same cool costume, is in solitary dignity (unattended even by his clerk) tossing about his own hay in the churchyard-and such a churchyard!-the only things to be seen in it are a yew and a sun-dial, not so much as a stone being there. The Rector's father and grandfather sleep side by side under the green turf.

"Now, pray, pray tell me what are your motions and by what signs you are to be found; and pray write me a line (if but a line) as soon as you receive this, directed to me under cover to the Earl of Lonsdale, Lowther, Penrith, Cumberland.

B