the night before. I thought, as well as himself,
that he was very near his end, and imagined that it would be this.
But the news struck me, for not an hour before he was taken ill he
passed by March's door as he was going to take an airing in Hyde
Park, with Clever in the chariot. I was sitting upon the steps, with
the little girl(103) on my lap, which diverted him, and he made me a
very pleasant bow, and that was my last view of him. I had had an
acquaintance with him of above thirty years, but for some time past
I had seen him only occasionally. He was a sensible honest man, and
when he was in spirits, and with his intimate friends, I think a
very agreeable companion, but had too much reserve to make a
friendship with, and not altogether the character that suits me.

White's begins to crumble away very fast, and would be a melancholy
scene to those who remained if they cared for any one person but
themselves. Williams gave a dinner to talk him over, which I suppose
was done with the voix larmoyante, et voila tout. Lord Monson a
creve aussi, and Tommy Alston, who has left a will in favour of his
bastards, which will occasion lawsuits.

I have made an agreement to meet Varcy to-morrow at Knowles; from
thence we go to Tunbridge; so I shall live on Monday on the
Pantiles, and on Tuesday return here. I dine to-day with the Essex's
at March's; we supped last night at Lady Harrington's, the
consequence of which is to eat a turtle on Tuesday at an alehouse on
the Ranelaugh Road, which she has seized from Lord Barrington. I
called at Lady Mary's first, and found her tres triste.

Lady Holland was thought to be dying yesterday, for Lord Beauchamp
was to have dined there, and at three o'clock a note came from
Ste(104) to desire him not to come. The late Lord Holland's
servants, preserving their friendship for my thief whom I dismissed,
were so good, when their Lord died, to send for him to sit up with
the corpse, as the only piece of preferment which was then vacant in
the family. But they afterwards promoted him to be outrider to the
hearse. Alice told me of it, and said that it was a comfort and
little relief to the poor man for the present; and Mr. More, the
attorney, to whom I mentioned it, said that they intended to throw
him into the same thing--that was the phrase--when Lady Holland
died. I beg you to reflect on these circumstances; they are dignes
de Moliere et Le Sage. How my poor old friend would have laughed, if
h