When I had drank tea, I strolled into the garden; they told me it was now called the pleasure-ground.  What a dissonant idea of pleasure! those groves, those all`ees, where I have passed so many charming moments, are now stripped up or over-grown—­many fond paths I could not unravel, though with a very exact clew in my memory:  I met two gamekeepers, and a thousand hares In the days when all my soul was tuned to pleasure and vivacity (and you will think, perhaps, it is far from being out of tune yet), I hated Houghton and its solitude; yet I loved this garden, as now, with many regrets, I love Houghton; Houghton, I know not what to call it, monument of grandeur or ruin!  How I have wished this evening for Lord Bute! how I could preach to him!  For myself, I do not want to be preached to; I have long considered, how every Balbec must wait for the chance of a Mr. Wood.  The servants wanted to lay me in the great apartment-what, to make me pass my night as I have done my evening!  It were like Proposing to Margaret Roper(143) to be a duchess in the court that cut off her father’s head, and imagining it would please her.  I have chosen to sit in my father’s little dressing-room, and am now by his scrutoire, where, in the heights of his fortune, he used to receive the accounts of his farmers, and deceive himself, or us, with the thoughts of his economy.  How wise a man at once, and how weak!  For what has he built Houghton? for his grandson to annihilate, or for his son to mourn over.  If Lord Burleigh could rise and view his representative driving the Hatfield stage, he would feel as I feel now.(144) Poor little Strawberry! at least it will not be stripped to pieces by a descendant!  You will find all these fine meditations dictated by pride, not by philosophy.  Pray consider through how many mediums philosophy must pass, before it is purified—­

“how often must it weep, how often burn!”

My mind was extremely prepared for all this gloom by parting with Mr. Conway yesterday morning; moral reflections or commonplaces are the livery one likes to wear, when one has just had a real misfortune.  He is going to Germany:  I was glad to dress myself up in transitory Houghton, in lieu of very sensible concern.  To-morrow I shall be distracted with thoughts, at least images of very different complexion.  I go to Lynn, and am to be elected on Friday.  I shall return hither on Saturday, again alone, to expect Burleighides on Sunday, whom I left at Newmarket.  I must once in my life see him on his grandfather’s throne.

Epping, Monday night, thirty-first.-No, I have not seen him; he loitered on the road, and I was kept at Lynn till yesterday morning.  It is plain I never knew for how many trades I was formed, when at this time of day I can begin electioneering, and succeed in my new vocation..  Think of me, the subject of a mob, who was scarce ever before in a mob, addressing them in the town-hall, riding at the