there will be no more till January. Luttrell and I chose you a few musical things.
The day before yesterday Mr. M. and I went to Hoxton and sat with poor Miss S. for half an hour. She is much better, but still evidently deranged; she kissed us both on our going away. Yesterday Mr. Windham came to town. He dined with us and sat all the evening. We had a great deal of conversation together of the most satisfactory kind,—to me extremely flattering on his part. I was to have dined to-day with Mr. Ward, Lord Dudley’s son, and to have met Mr. Spencer, the author, but my proposed departure prevented it. He is the liveliest man I ever met, and we harmonized amazingly one evening at Luttrell’s. I must tell it in my dearest dear’s ear, that my reception here with these sort of people has been uniformly so flattering, and so favourable, as to astonish even my vanity. Lord C. called upon me while I was out, and spoke of me most ludicrously well to Mr. M.
I have dined twice with Dr. Hume and Anacreon Moore. Once I brought Mr. Malone at his desire. I like his wife much, and Moore without bounds. Once also with Woodward, where I met Lord Mountcashell hot from Germany.
After an impassioned passage of affection to his wife, Mr. Jephson again writes:—
November 30th.—You are right in your opinion of Mr. M.’s mind, and of the excellence of his heart. His kindness to me is unbounded, and the unqualified confidence in which we live together, with our many hours of talk which our mode of life induces, have certainly strengthened those bonds of amity that before subsisted between us.
To return to my journalier account of myself. We dined a few days since with Mr. Metcalf. He is principally remarkable for La cuisine douce, of which we certainly had a very good example. A Mr. Cromle, formerly Steward of the Household to Lord Carlisle when Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, was the only stranger. He seemed to me a perfect model of