o insecure in heavy rains. Nevertheless, his days were passed as
peacefully there as the premature infirmities which came upon him would
permit.

From the age of twenty-five his fingers were enlarged and deformed by
chalk-stones, which were discharged twice a year. 'I can chalk up a
score with more rapidity than any man in England,' was his melancholy
jest. He had now adopted as a necessity a strict temperance: he sat up
very late, either writing or conversing, yet always breakfasted at nine
o'clock. After the death of Madame du Deffand, a little fat dog,
scarcely able to move for age and size--her legacy--used to proclaim his
approach by barking. The little favourite was placed beside him on a
sofa; a tea-kettle, stand, and heater were brought in, and he drank two
or three cups of tea out of the finest and most precious china of
Japan--that of a pure white. He breakfasted with an appetite, feeding
from his table the little dog and his pet squirrels.

Dinner at Strawberry Hill was usually served up in the small parlour in
winter, the large dining-room being reserved for large parties. As age
drew on, he was supported down stairs by his valet; and then, says the
compiler of Walpoliana, 'he ate most moderately of chicken, pheasant, or
any light food. Pastry he disliked, as difficult of digestion, though he
would taste a morsel of venison-pie. Never but once, that he drank two
glasses of white wine, did the editor see him taste any liquor, except
ice-water. A pail of ice was placed under the table, in which stood a
decanter of water, from which he supplied himself with his favourite
beverage.'

No wine was drunk after dinner, when the host of Strawberry Hill called
instantly to some one to ring the bell for coffee. It was served
upstairs, and there, adds the same writer, 'he would pass about five
o'clock, and generally resuming his place on the sofa, would sit till
two in the morning, in miscellaneous chit-chat, full of singular
anecdotes, strokes of wit, and acute observations, occasionally sending
for books, or curiosities, or passing to the library, as any reference
happened to arise in conversation. After his coffee, he tasted nothing;
but the snuff-box of _tabac d'etrennes_, from Fribourg's, was not
forgotten, and was replenished from a canister lodged in an ancient
marble urn of great thickness, which stood in the window seat, and
served to secure its moisture and rich flavour.'

In spite of all his infirmities,