A few days afterwards, I was rather unexpectedly stopped in my tour. For a night I had taken up my residence in the carriage of a young Englishman, who that day arrived from Rome, the hostler having assured me that he would remain for some time. I did so, as I found it much quieter and cooler than the hotel "La ville de Lyon," which was overcrowded. In the morning, I thought my friends were merely going a short drive, so I kept my seat. We, however, travelled on till night, when I heard we were bound for London; but as my companions were very agreeable, I thought I might as well accompany them the whole way. They seemed to be annoyed at every posthouse with their passports, &c. ; I was never even asked about the matter. The custom-house gentry, in their searches, to be sure, occasionally gave me a little trouble, but I was soon up to their tricks. We had an avant-courier constantly galloping before us, and we travelled with such expedition that we reached London in five days; for my fellow-travellers were idle young men of fortune, who are of course always in the greatest hurry for the end of a journey, because they don't know what to make of themselves when it is over.

I had not then an opportunity of seeing Paris, as we only changed horses in it. I have since, however, spent many months there, and have always been very much pleased with every thing I saw, particularly the Catacombs, which were my favourite lounge. When last in Paris, I made a narrow escape with my life, as I tumbled headlong into a cask of brandy. I, however, managed to scramble out, with the assistance of a bit of cord, which happened to be hanging over its side, and which my friend pushed in to me. I was little the worse of my ducking; for, as soon as I got out, I was set a-laughing by his telling me how to spell brandy, in both French and English, in three letters, viz. "B.R. and Y." and "O.D.V."

In London I made a point, as a stranger, of going everywhere, and was certainly much delighted with every thing. I must confess, however, that I thought all the acting at the Opera and Theatres, and all the eloquence of the Houses of Parliament, as nothing in comparison of what I saw and tasted at the East India and London Docks. When I was in the House of Lords, a companion whispered to me, that he had heard an act read, offering a reward of 10,000l. for a male tortoise-shell cat. This I believe, indeed, is a very safe offer, for such a thing was never heard of. And it is certainly as much worth their while as making an act that I should never have more than six dishes of meat at my dinner, or that I should not be buried in linen above twenty shillings Scots value per ell, although I wished it particularly, and could well afford to pay for it. There was, however, one restrictive act, which had sense in it; and the husbands of the present day would, I dare say, give their ears that it were still in force, whatever the dressmakers might think of it. But many of their acts of Parliament are silly enough—as they must be; for they don't like to be thought idle, and imagine that it is necessary to be always enacting something.

It is curious, indeed, how fashion should be every thing in the great city. A lady could not possibly venture to see her dearest friend on earth, or even her own sister, if she happened to live in rather an unfashionable part of the town. By so doing, she would expose herself to her own footmen, who very properly would lose all respect for her, and I suppose instantly leave her service, as, poor fellows, they have a rank in life to keep up!! John Bull certainly gives himself many airs, to say the least of it. After receiving the greatest kindness and hospitality from you in Scotland, and perhaps staying for months in your house, he will cut you dead in London. I remember once meeting with such a return, but took it, of course, very coolly. Next day, when I was arm in arm with – –, I happened again to meet my quondam friend, who immediately rushed up to me—I, however, turned on my tail, and did not know him.—Fashion is an odd thing after all. It is not rank which will do. I have seen many a spendthrift young commoner cut his uncle the duke; and being a duchess by no means will ensure admittance at Almack's.—I thank my stars, I am not fashionable, and am always happy to see my friends!

I was persuaded, soon after reaching London, to go down to Essex for a few days, to pay a visit to an old friend. When I arrived at his house, which I think they called Waltham Abbey, I was sorry to receive the melancholy accounts that he had been devoured, and that, if I did not instantly take myself off, I should be dealt with in the same manner. The truth was, that a famine had arisen; and it is well known, on those occasions, as necessity has no law, that the stronger kills the weaker. Day after day the combat is renewed, till at last all except one are destroyed, and he is then obliged to decamp, or eat himself up, as he likes best. It is in this way that castles, houses, &c. which have been long infested by us, are so suddenly entirely freed from our presence.

I amused myself in making an excursion to Epping Forest, till I thought the civil war at my late friend's habitation might have proceeded far enough for my presence to be useful. In the forest, one day, I had the luck to kill one of those troublesome reptiles—a Tom Cat. I believe, however, it was a house one. After a hard day's hunting his highness made too free at a Valerian party. I watched my opportunity, and soon put an effectual end to his caterwauling. When I returned to the abbey, I found I was in the best possible time—the garrison being reduced to about a dozen, and they so weakened and tired out with the constant worrying work they had had, that I was myself a complete match for any two of them. In a few days the number was only four, and in other two days I was sole lord and master.

[He then returns to town.]

At a friend's house, in Berkeley Square, where I met a distinguished party, a scene took place, just such as Pope describes—

Our courtier walks from dish to dish; Tastes, for his friend, of fowl and fish: "That jelly's rich, that malmsey's healing, Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in." Was ever such a happy swain? He stuffs, and swills, and stuffs again. "I'm quite ashamed—'Tis mighty rude To eat so much; but all's so good! I have a thousand thanks to give, My lord alone knows how to live."— No sooner said, but from the hall Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all: "A r—t, a r—t! clap to the door!"—

I, however, made good my exit, and was nothing the worse of a practical warning to be more cautious in future.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 345, December 6, 1828

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