[Woolwich stones, still collected in that locality, are simply waterworn pebbles of flint, which, when broken with a hammer, exhibit on the smooth surface some resemblance to the human face; and their possessors are thus enabled to trace likenesses of friends, or eminent public characters.  The late Mr. Tennant, the geologist, of the Strand, had a collection of such stones.  In the British Museum is a nodule of globular or Egyptian jasper, which, in its fracture, bears a striking resemblance to the well-known portrait of Chaucer.  It is engraved in Rymsdyk’s “Museum Britannicum,” tab. xxviii.  A flint, showing Mr. Pitt’s face, used once to be exhibited at the meetings of the Pitt Club.—­B.]

now much in request; which I accepted, the values not being great, and knowing that I had done them courtesies, which he did own in very high terms; and then, at my asking, did give me an old draught of an ancient-built ship, given him by his father, of the Beare, in Queen Elizabeth’s time.  This did much please me, it being a thing I much desired to have, to shew the difference in the build of ships now and heretofore.  Being much taken with this kindness, I away to Blackwall and Deptford, to satisfy myself there about the King’s business, and then walked to Redriffe, and so home about noon; there find Mr. Hunt, newly come out of the country, who tells me the country is much impoverished by the greatness of taxes:  the farmers do break every day almost, and L1000 a-year become not worth L500.  He dined with us, and we had good discourse of the general ill state of things, and, by the way, he told me some ridiculous pieces of thrift of Sir G. Downing’s, who is his countryman, in inviting some poor people, at Christmas last, to charm the country people’s mouths; but did give them nothing but beef, porridge, pudding, and pork, and nothing said all dinner, but only his mother would say, “It’s good broth, son.”  He would answer, “Yes, it is good broth.”  Then, says his lady, Confirm all, and say, “Yes, very good broth.”  By and by she would begin and say, “Good pork:”—­“Yes,” says the mother, “good pork.”  Then he cries, “Yes, very good pork.”  And so they said of all things; to which nobody made any answer, they going there not out of love or esteem of them, but to eat his victuals, knowing him to be a niggardly fellow; and with this he is jeered now all over the country.  This day just before dinner comes Captain Story, of Cambridge, to me to the office, about a bill for prest money,

     [Money paid to men who enlist into the public service; press money. 
     So called because those who receive it are to be prest or ready when
     called on ("Encyclopaedic Dictionary “).]