ing the rapid succession of
some of the very finest productions of the great masters that the attempt
to describe them seems an impossible task; however, I will make an
effort.

The collection of which I speak is that of Mr. Beckford, at his house in
Lansdown-crescent. Besides all this I have this day been introduced to
that extraordinary man, the author of "Vathek" and "Italy," the builder
of Fonthill, the contemporary of the mighty and departed dead, the pupil
of Mozart; in fact, to the formidable and inaccessible Vathek himself! I
have many times passed the house, and longed to see its contents, and
often have I wondered how a building with so plain and unostentatious an
exterior could suit the reception of the works it contains, and the
residence of so magnificent a personage.

I first called by appointment on his ingenious architect, Mr. Goodridge
(to whom I am indebted for this distinguished favour), and he accompanied
me to the house, which we reached at half-past twelve o'clock. We were
shown upstairs, passing many fine family pictures, and were ushered into
the neat library, where Mr. Beckford was waiting to receive us. I
confess I did at first feel somewhat embarrassed, but a lovely spaniel
ran playfully towards us, licking our hands in the most affectionate and
hospitable manner; "You are welcome" was the silent language. I assure
you I judge much, and often truly, of the character of individuals from
the deportment of their favourite dogs. I often find them exactly
indicative of their master's disposition. When you are attacked by
snarling, waspish curs is it at all wonderful if you find them an echo of
the proprietor? But this beautiful animal reassured me, and gave me
instantly a favourable idea of its master. My astonishment was great at
the spaciousness of the room, which had in length a magnificent and
palatial effect, nor did I immediately discover the cause of its apparent
grandeur. It opens into the gallery built over the arch connecting the
two houses, at the end of which an immense mirror reflects the two
apartments. The effect is most illusive, nor should I have guessed the
truth had I not seen the reflection of my own figure in the glass.

The library, which is the whole length of the first house, cannot be much
less than fifty feet long. It has on one side five lofty windows, the
gallery having three on the same side. You have the light streaming
through eight consecutive openings