y her death--had
completely subsided, a happier friendship was permitted to solace his
now increasing infirmities, as well as to enhance his social pleasures.

It was during the year 1788, when he was living in retirement at
Strawberry, that his auspicious friendship was formed. The only grain of
ambition he had left he declared was to believe himself forgotten; that
was 'the thread that had run through his life;' 'so true,' he adds,
'except the folly of being an author, has been what I said last year to
the Prince' (afterwards George IV.), 'when he asked me "If I was a
Freemason," I replied, "No sir; I never was anything."'

Lady Charleville told him that some of her friends had been to see
Strawberry. 'Lord!' cried one lady, 'who is that Mr. Walpole?' 'Lord!'
cried a second; 'don't you know the great epicure, Mr. Walpole?' 'Who?'
cried the first,--'great epicure! you mean the antiquarian.' 'Surely,'
adds Horace, 'this anecdote may take its place in the chapter of local
fame.'

But he reverts to his new acquisition--the acquaintance of the Miss
Berrys, who had accidentally taken a house next to his at Strawberry
Hill. Their story, he adds, was a curious one: their descent Scotch;
their grandfather had an estate of L5,000 a year, but disinherited his
son on account of his marrying a woman with no fortune. She died, and
the grandfather, wishing for an heir-male, pressed the widower to marry
again: he refused; and said he would devote himself to the education of
his two daughters. The second son generously gave up L8oo a year to his
brother, and the two motherless girls were taken to the Continent,
whence they returned the 'best informed and most perfect creatures that
Horace Walpole ever saw at their age.'

Sensible, natural, frank, their conversation proved most agreeable to a
man who was sated of grand society, and sick of vanity until he had
indulged in vexation of spirit. He discovered by chance only--for there
was no pedantry in these truly well-educated women--that the eldest
understood Latin, and 'was a perfect Frenchwoman in her language. Then
the youngest drew well; and copied one of Lady Di Beauclerk's pictures,
'The Gipsies,' though she had never attempted colours before. Then, as
to looks: Mary, the eldest, had a sweet face, the more interesting from
being pale; with fine dark eyes that were lighted up when she spoke.
Agnes, the younger, was 'hardly to be called handsome, but almost;' with
an agreeable se