being at home as I returned from my
expedition.

My tour has been extremely agreeable. I set out with winning a good deal
at Loo at Ragley; the Duke of Grafton was not so successful, and had
some high words with Pam. I went from thence to Offley's at
Whichnovre[1], the individual manor of the flitch of bacon, which has
been growing rusty for these thirty years in his hall. I don't wonder; I
have no notion that one could keep in good humour with one's wife for a
year and a day, unless one was to live on the very spot, which is one of
the sweetest scenes I ever saw. It is the brink of a high hill; the
Trent wriggles through at the foot; Lichfield and twenty other churches
and mansions decorate the view. Mr. Anson has bought an estate
[Shugborough] close by, whence my Lord used to cast many a wishful eye,
though without the least pretensions even to a bit of lard.

[Footnote 1: The manor of Whichnovre, near Lichfield, is held (like the
better-known Dunmow, in Essex) on the singular custom of the Lord of the
Manor "keeping ready, all times of the year but Lent, one bacon-flyke
hanging in his hall, to be given to every man or woman who demanded it a
year and a day after marriage, upon their swearing that they would not
have changed for none other, fairer nor fouler, richer nor poorer, nor
for no other descended of great lineage sleeping nor waking at no
time."]

I saw Lichfield Cathedral, which has been rich, but my friend Lord
Brooke and his soldiery treated poor St. Chad[1] with so little
ceremony, that it is in a most naked condition. In a niche at the very
summit they have crowded a statue of Charles the Second, with a special
pair of shoe-strings, big enough for a weathercock. As I went to Lord
Strafford's I passed through Sheffield, which is one of the foulest
towns in England in the most charming situation; there are
two-and-twenty thousand inhabitants making knives and scissors: they
remit eleven thousand pounds a week to London. One man there has
discovered the art of plating copper with silver; I bought a pair of
candlesticks for two guineas that are quite pretty. Lord Strafford has
erected the little Gothic building, which I got Mr. Bentley to draw; I
took the idea from Chichester Cross. It stands on a high bank in the
menagerie, between a pond and a vale, totally bowered over with oaks. I
went with the Straffords to Chatsworth and stayed there four days; there
were Lady Mary Coke, Lord Besborough and his daugh