e furniture has been selected with a delicacy of taste quite
unique. Its value does not depend on fashion, but must be the same while
the fine arts are held in any esteem. In the drawing-room, for example,
the chimney-pieces are carved by Flaxman into the most beautiful Grecian
forms. The book-case is painted by Stothard, in his very best manner,
with groups from Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Boccacio. The pictures are
not numerous; but every one is excellent. In the dining-room there are
also some beautiful paintings. But the three most remarkable objects in
that room are, I think, a cast of Pope taken after death by Roubiliac;
a noble model in terra-cotta by Michael Angelo, from which he afterwards
made one of his finest statues, that of Lorenzo de Medici; and, lastly,
a mahogany table on which stands an antique vase.

When Chantrey dined with Rogers some time ago he took particular notice
of the vase, and the table on which it stands, and asked Rogers who
made the table. "A common carpenter," said Rogers. "Do you remember
the making of it?" said Chantrey. "Certainly," said Rogers, in some
surprise. "I was in the room while it was finished with the chisel, and
gave the workman directions about placing it." "Yes," said Chantrey, "I
was the carpenter. I remember the room well, and all the circumstances."
A curious story, I think, and honourable both to the talent which raised
Chantrey, and to the magnanimity which kept him from being ashamed of
what he had been.

Ever yours affectionately

T. B. M.

To Hannah M. Macaulay.

London: June 29, 1831.

My dear Sister,--We are not yet in the full tide of Parliamentary
business. Next week the debates will be warm and long. I should not
wonder if we had a discussion of five nights. I shall probably take a
part in it.

I have breakfasted again with Rogers. The party was a remarkable
one,--Lord John Russell, Tom Moore, Tom Campbell, and Luttrell. We were
all very lively. An odd incident took place after breakfast, while we
were standing at the window and looking into the Green Park. Somebody
was talking about diners-out. "Ay," said Campbell--

"Ye diners-out from whom we guard our spoons."

Tom Moore asked where the line was. "Don't you know?" said Campbell.
"Not I," said Moore. "Surely," said Campbell, "it is your own." "I never
saw it in my life," said Moore. "It is in one of your best things in the
Times," said Campbell. Moore denied it. Hereupon I put in my claim,
and