finish. Mr. Beckford took off the glass, and desired me to take it to
the window. "I am really afraid to touch it," said I, but he forced it
into my hands. I prepared them to receive a massive and (as it seemed to
me) very weighty vessel, when lo it proved as light as a feather. We
were afterwards shown another Japan vase, the exterior of which exactly
resembled the Pompeian designs, elegant scrolls, delicate tracery of
blue, red, green, &c. These colours strongly opposed as in the remains
of paintings at Pompeii. Here are some other precious little pictures, a
small Gerard Dow, a Watteau, a Moucheron, and a Polemberg. He merely
noticed them, and then led us into the next room.

A noble library. It is an elegant and charming apartment, very chastely
ornamented. Here are no pictures; it is devoted entirely to books and
ponderous folios of the most rare and precious engravings. The sides of
the library are adorned by Scagliola pilasters and arched recesses, which
contain the books. The interstices between the arches and the ceiling
are painted in imitation of marble, so extremely like that though they
touch the Scagliola it is next to impossible to distinguish any
difference. The ceiling is belted across and enriched with bands of
Grecian tracery in relief, delicately painted and slightly touched with
gold. On the walls are some gilded ornaments, enough to give to the
whole richness of effect without heaviness. Between the windows is what
I suppose may be termed a table, composed of an enormous slab of the
rarest marble, supported by elegantly cast bronze legs. Over this a
small cabinet (manufactured in Bath from drawings by Mr. Goodridge) full
of extremely small books; it is carved in oak in the most elaborate
manner. The fireplace, of Devonshire marble, is perfect in design and in
its adaptation to the rest of the room; in fact, everything in this
lovely chamber is in unison, everything soft, quiet, and subdued.

New wonders awaited me. Next to the library is a sort of vestibule
leading to a staircase, which from its mysterious and crimson light, rich
draperies, and latticed doors seemed to be the sanctum sanctorum of a
heathen temple. To the left a long passage, whose termination not being
seen allowed the imagination full play, led for aught I know to the
Fortress of Akerman, to the Montagne du Caf or to the Halls of Argenti.
Ou sout peintes toutes les createures raissonables, et les animaux qui
ont