and snarls at 'the
selfish aristocracy who have no sympathies with the people,' and
when he has seen these hundreds feasting in the Castle, and heard
their loud shouts of joy and congratulation, and then visited the
villages around, and listened to the bells chiming all about the
vale, say whether 'the greatest happiness of the greatest number'
would be promoted by the destruction of all the feudality which
belongs inseparably to this scene, and by the substitution of
some abstract political rights for all the beef and ale and music
and dancing with which they are made merry and glad even for so
brief a space. The Duke of Rutland is as selfish a man as any of
his class--that is, he never does what he does not like, and
spends his whole life in a round of such pleasures as suit his
taste, but he is neither a foolish nor a bad man, and partly from
a sense of duty, partly from inclination, he devotes time and
labour to the interest and welfare of the people who live and
labour on his estate. He is a Guardian of a very large Union, and
he not only attends regularly the meetings of Poor Law Guardians
every week or fortnight, and takes an active part in their
proceedings, but he visits those paupers who receive out-of-door
relief, sits and converses with them, invites them to complain to
him if they have anything to complain of, and tells them that he
is not only their friend but their representative at the assembly
of Guardians, and it is his duty to see that they are nourished
and protected. To my mind there is more 'sympathy' in this than
in railing at the rich and rendering the poor discontented,
weaning them from their habitual attachments and respects, and
teaching them that the political quacks and adventurers who
flatter and cajole them are their only real friends.

We had a great ball last night, opened by the Duke of Rutland and
Duchess of Sutherland, who had to sail down at least a hundred
couple of tenants, shopkeepers, valets, and abigails. The Duke of
Newcastle gave the Duke's health at dinner instead of the Duke of
Wellington, who generally discharges that office. He made a
boggling business of it, but apologised in sufficiently handsome
terms for being spokesman instead of the Duke of Wellington. The
Duke of Rutland made a very respectable speech in reply, and it
all went off swimmingly. To-day I went to see the hounds throw
off; but though a hunter was offered to me would not ride him,
because there is no