always create the most intense
interest, and I repeated those lines of Petrarch, introduced by Mr.
Beckford himself in his "Italy" on a similar occasion--

O ora, o georno, o ultimo momento,
O stelle conjurate ad impoverime, &c.

I forgot to mention a cluster of heliotrope in blossom on the Down,
growing in such wild luxuriance that I could not believe it to be my
little darling flower. However, on stooping down I soon perceived by its
fragrance it was the same plant that I had been accustomed to admire in
greenhouses or in small pots.

October, 1838.

I have had another peep at the Tower. The day was auspicious. I ran up
the staircase and wonderfully enjoyed the prospect. Looking through the
middle window towards the west you have a delicious picture. The hills
undulate in the most picturesque manner, the motion of the clouds at one
moment threw a line of hills into shadow, which were the next minute
illumined by the sun, the Avon glittering in the sunbeams, the village of
Weston embedded in the valley, a rich cluster of large trees near the
town, variegated by the tints of autumn, united to form a charming
picture. The pieces of plate-glass that compose the twelve windows of
this beautiful room cannot be less than 5.5ft. high and 18in. wide.

On descending I was struck with the lovely effect of the corridor, at the
end of which is the statue of St. Anthony; on the pedestal (a block of
Sienna) are engraved in letters of gold these words, "Dominus illuminatio
mio." The Francesco Mola (the Magdalen in the Desert) is a lovely
landscape indeed; the rocks and their spirited execution, lightness of
the foliage, &c., in the foreground remind one of St. Rosa. A cluster of
cherubs hovers over the head of Mary. In the smaller room on the upper
floor is the picture by West of the Installation of the Knights of the
Garter. From the contemplation of this picture I entertain a higher
opinion of the genius of West than I ever did before. You can scarcely
believe it is his painting; there is nothing of his usual hard outline,
the shadows are rich, the background soft and mellow, the lights unite
sweetly, and it is touched in the free and juicy manner of the sketches
of Rubens or Paolo Veronese. It is difficult to believe that this
picture is not 200 years old. The head of a child by Parmigiano; a large
picture by Breughel. The enameled glass vase brought to Europe by St.
Louis; this must be of Arabian ma