d milk-tea; in the next,
I eat no meat but the whitest, youngest, and tenderest, nine times in
ten nothing but chicken, and never more than the quantity of a small one
at a meal. I seldom eat any supper, but if any, nothing absolutely but
bread and water; two days in the week I eat no flesh; my breakfast is
dry biscuit, not sweet, and green tea; I have left off butter as
bilious; I eat no salt, nor any sauce but bread-sauce.'

Among the most cherished relaxations of the royal household were visits
to Twickenham, whilst the court was at Richmond. The River Thames, which
has borne on its waves so much misery in olden times--which was the
highway from the Star-chamber to the tower--which has been belaboured in
our days with so much wealth, and sullied with so much impurity; that
river, whose current is one hour rich as the stream of a gold river, the
next hour, foul as the pestilent churchyard,--was then, especially
between Richmond and Teddington, a glassy, placid stream, reflecting on
its margin the chestnut-trees of stately Ham, and the reeds and wild
flowers which grew undisturbed in the fertile meadows of Petersham.

Lord Hervey, with the ladies of the court, Mrs. Howard as their
chaperon, delighted in being wafted to that village, so rich in names
which give to Twickenham undying associations with the departed great.
Sometimes the effeminate valetudinarian, Hervey, was content to attend
the Princess Caroline to Marble Hill only, a villa residence built by
George II. for Mrs. Howard, and often referred to in the correspondence
of that period. Sometimes the royal barge, with its rowers in scarlet
jackets, was seen conveying the gay party; ladies in slouched hats,
pointed over fair brows in front, with a fold of sarsenet round them,
terminated in a long bow and ends behind--with deep falling mantles over
dresses never cognizant of crinoline: gentlemen, with cocked-hats, their
bag-wigs and ties appearing behind; and beneath their puce-coloured
coats, delicate silk tights and gossamer stockings were visible, as they
trod the mossy lawn of the Palace Gardens at Richmond, or, followed by a
tiny greyhound, prepared for the lazy pleasures of the day.

Sometimes the visit was private; the sickly Princess Caroline had a
fancy to make one of the group who are bound to Pope's villa.
Twickenham, where that great little man had, since 1715, established
himself, was pronounced by Lord Bacon to be the finest place in the
world for