Lady Mary Coke, Mrs. Anne Pitt, and Mr. Shelley.  The day was delightful, the scene transporting; the trees, lawns, concaves, all in the perfection in which the ghost of Kent would joy to see them.  At twelve we made the tour of the farm in chaises, and calashes, horsemen, and footmen, setting out like a picture of Wouverman’s.  My lot fell in the lap of Mrs. Anne Pitt,(291) which I could have excused, as she was not at all in the style of the day, romantic, but political.  We had a magnificent dinner, cloaked in the modesty of earthenware; French horns and hautboys On the lawn.  We walked to the Belvidere on the summit of the hill, where a theatrical storm only served to heighten the beauty Of the landscape, a rainbow on a dark cloud falling precisely behind the tower of a neighbouring church, between another tower and the building at Claremont.  Monsieur de Nivernois, who had been absorbed all day, and lagging behind, translating my verses, was delivered of bis version, and of some more lines which he wrote on Miss Pelham in the Belvedere, while we drank tea and coffee.  From thence we passed into the wood, and the ladies formed a circle on chairs before the Mouth of the cave, which was overhung to a vast height with the woodbines, lilacs, and liburnums, and dignified by the tall shapely cypresses.  On the descent of the hill were placed the French horns; the abigails, servants, and neighbours wandering below the river; in short, it was Parnassus, as Watteau would have painted it.  Here we had a rural syllabub, and part of the company returned to town; but were replaced by Giardini and Onofrio, who, with Nivernois on he violin, an Lord Pembroke on the bass, accompanied Mrs. Pelham, Lady Rockingham, and the Duchess of Grafton, who sang.  This little concert lasted till past ten; then there were minuets, and as we had seven couple left, it concluded with a Country dance.  I blush again, for I danced, but was kept in countenance by Nivernois, who has one wrinkle more than I have.  A quarter after twelve they sat down to supper, and I came home by a charming moonlight.  I am going to dine in town, and to a great ball with fireworks at Miss Chudleigh’s, but I return hither on Sunday, to bid adieu to this abominable Arcadian life; for really when one is not young, one ought to do nothing but s’ennuyer; I will try, but I always go about it awkwardly.  Adieu!

P. S. I enclose a copy of both the English and French verses.

A madame de BOUFFLRLRS.

Boufflers, qu’embellissent les graces,
Et qui plairot sans le vouloir,
Elle `a qui l’amour du s`cavoir
Fit braver le Nord et les glaces;
Boufflers se plait en nos vergers,
Et veut `a nos sons `etrangers
Plier sa voix enchanteresse. 
R`ep`etons son nom Mille fois,
Sur tons les coeurs Bourflers aura des droits,
Par tout o`u la rime et la Presse
`a l’amour pr`eteront leur voix.

A madame Dusson.