wore out my eyes with gazing, my feet with climbing, and my tongue and my vocabulary with commending!  The best notion I can give you of the satisfaction I showed, was, that Sir George proposed to carry me to dine with my Lord Foley; and when I showed reluctance, he said, “Why, I thought you did not mind any strangers, if you were to see any thing!” Think of my not minding strangers!  I mind them so much, that I missed seeing Hartlebury Castle, and the Bishop of Worcester’s chapel of painted glass there, because it was his public day when I passed by his park.-Miller has built a Gothic house in the village at Hagley for a relation of Sir George:  but there he is not more than Miller; in his castle he is almost Bentley.  There is a genteel tomb in the church to Sir George’s first wife,(427) with a Cupid and a pretty urn in the Roman style.

You will be diverted with my distresses at Worcester.  I set out boldly to walk down the high-street to the cathedral:  I found it much more peopled than I intended, and, when I was quite embarked, discovered myself up to the ears in a contested election.  A new candidate had arrived the night before, and turned all their heads.  Nothing comforted me, but that the opposition is to Mr. Trevis; and I purchased my passage very willingly with crying “No Trevis!  No Jews!” However, the inn where I lay was Jerusalem itself, the very head-quarters where Trevis the Pharisee was expected; and I had scarce got into my room, before the victorious mob of his enemy, who had routed his advanced guard, broke open the gates of our inn, and almost murdered the ostler-and then carried him off to prison for being murdered.  The cathedral is pretty, and has several tombs, and clusters of light pillars of Derbyshire marble, lately cleaned.  Gothicism and the restoration of that architecture, and not of the bastard breed, spreads extremely in this part of the world.  Prince Arthur’s tomb, from whence we took the paper for the hall and staircase, to my great surprise. is on a less scale than the paper, and is not of brass but stone, and that wretchedly whitewashed.  The niches are very small, and the long slips in the middle are divided every now and then with the trefoil.  There is a fine tomb for Bishop Hough, in the Westminster Abbey style; but the obelisk at the back is not loaded with a globe and a human figure, like Mr. Kent’s design for Sir Isatc Newton; an absurdity which nothing but himself could surpass, when he placed three busts at the foot of an altar-and, not content with that, placed them at the very angles—­where they have as little to do as they have with Shakspeare.