eives a few quiet visitors to tea, and perhaps an early game of
cards: or you may see her going out on the same kind of visit herself,
with a light umbrella running up into a stick and crooked ivory
handle, and her little dog, equally famous for his love to her and
captious antipathy to strangers. Her grandchildren dislike him on
holidays, and the boldest sometimes ventures to give him a sly kick
under the table. When she returns at night, she appears, if the
weather happens to be doubtful, in a calash; and her servant in
pattens, follows half behind and half at her side, with a lantern.

Her opinions are not many nor new. She thinks the clergyman a nice
man. The Duke of Wellington, in her opinion, is a very great man; but
she has a secret preference for the Marquis of Granby. She thinks the
young women of the present day too forward, and the men not respectful
enough; but hopes her grandchildren will be better; though she differs
with her daughter in several points respecting their management. She
sets little value on the new accomplishments; is a great though
delicate connoisseur in butcher's meat and all sorts of housewifery;
and if you mention waltzes, expatiates on the grace and fine breeding
of the minuet. She longs to have seen one danced by Sir Charles
Grandison, whom she almost considers as a real person. She likes a
walk of a summer's evening, but avoids the new streets, canals, etc.,
and sometimes goes through the churchyard, where her other children
and her husband lie buried, serious, but not melancholy. She has had
three great epochs in her life:--her marriage--her having been at
court, to see the King and Queen and Royal Family--and a compliment on
her figure she once received, in passing, from Mr. Wilkes, whom she
describes as a sad, loose man, but engaging. His plainness she thinks
much exaggerated. If anything takes her at a distance from home, it is
still the court; but she seldom stirs, even for that. The last time
but one that she went, was to see the Duke of Wirtemberg; and most
probably for the last time of all, to see the Princess Charlotte and
Prince Leopold. From this beatific vision she returned with the same
admiration as ever for the fine comely appearance of the Duke of York
and the rest of the family, and great delight at having had a near
view of the Princess, whom she speaks of with smiling pomp and lifted
mittens, clasping them as passionately as she can together, and
calling her, in a