We have been overwhelmed with lamentable Cambridge and Oxford dirges on the Prince’s death:  there is but one tolerable copy; it is by a young Lord Stormont, a nephew of Murray, who is much commended.  You may imagine what incense is offered to Stone by the people of Christchurch:  they have hooked in, too, poor Lord Harcourt, and call him Harcourt the Wise! his wisdom has already disgusted the young Prince; “Sir, pray hold up your head.  Sir, for God’s sake, turn out your toes!” Such are Mentor’s precepts!

I am glad you receive my letters; as I knew I had been punctual, it mortified me that you should think me remiss.  Thank you for the transcript from Bubb[1] de tristibus!  I will keep your secret, though I am persuaded that a man who had composed such a funeral oration on his master and himself fully intended that its flowers should not bloom and wither in obscurity.

[Footnote 1:  Bubb means Mr. Bubb Doddington, afterwards Lord Melcombe, who had written Mr. Mann a letter of most extravagant lamentation on the death of the Prince of Wales.  He was member for Winchelsea, and left behind him a diary, which was published some years after his death, and which throws a good deal of light on the political intrigues of the day.]

We have already begun to sell the pictures that had not found place at Houghton:  the sale gives no great encouragement to proceed (though I fear it must come to that!); the large pictures were thrown away; the whole-length Vandykes went for a song!  I am mortified now at having printed the catalogue.  Gideon the Jew, and Blakiston the independent grocer, have been the chief purchasers of the pictures sold already—­there, if you love moralizing!

Adieu!  I have no more articles to-day for my literary gazette.

DESCRIPTION OF STRAWBERRY HILL—­BILL TO PREVENT CLANDESTINE MARRIAGES.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, June 12, 1753.

I could not rest any longer with the thought of your having no idea of a place of which you hear so much, and therefore desired Mr. Bentley to draw you as much idea of it as the post would be persuaded to carry from Twickenham to Florence.  The enclosed enchanted little landscape, then, is Strawberry Hill; and I will try to explain so much of it to you as will help to let you know whereabouts we are when we are talking to you; for it is uncomfortable in so intimate a correspondence as ours not to be exactly master of every spot where one another is writing, or reading, or sauntering.  This view of the castle is what I have just finished, and is the only side that will be at all regular.  Directly before it is an open grove, through which you see a field, which is bounded by a serpentine wood of all kind of trees, and flowering shrubs, and flowers.  The lawn before the house is situated on the top of a small hill, from whence to the left you see the town and church of Twickenham encircling