“_London, December ye 4th, 1781._ ... At this time of ye year, the great city is solitary, silent, and quiet. Its present state makes a good preface to the succeeding months of crowd, noise, and bustle.... One always finds some friends in town; a few agreable people may at any time be gathered together; and, for my own part, I think one seldom passes the whole of one’s time more agreably than before the meeting of parliament in January; and this never appeared more strongly to me than this year, when so excellent a house was ready to receive me. “... As age is apt to bring with it a certain degree of melancholy and discontent, I endeavour to prevent its having that effect, by sympathising in the joy of my young friends and of improving the objects about me.... As fast as time wrinkles my forehead, I smooth the grounds about Sandleford, or embellish my town habitation. In a little while, I shall never see anything belonging to me that is not pretty, except when I behold myself in the looking-glass.... At Sandleford, I can assure you, Mr. Brown has not neglected any of its capabilities. He is forming it into a lovely pastoral—a sweet Arcadian scene. In not attempting more, he adapts his scheme to the character of the place and my purse. We shall not erect temples to heathen gods, build proud bridges over humble rivulets, or do any of the marvellous things suggested by caprice, and indulged by the wantonness of wealth. The noble rooms which Mr. Wyatt was building when you were at Sandleford are now finishing with the greatest simplicity. “... To-morrow is look’d to with anxious expectation, as it will in some measure declare on what terms peace may be obtain’d. I believe all the belligerent powers are tir’d of the war. But what difficulties the cunning of statesmen, the pride of kings, or the caprice of the people may put in the way, one cannot tell. The Spaniards are proud, the French are petulant, the Dutch are avaricious, and the English are a happy compound of all these things. “... My steward (from Northumberland), who made his annual visit to me in November, told me that north of my estates there were many fields of oats and barley lying under the snow. I have been very busy with him, settling our year’s accounts, for these ten days past. “Lord Edward Bentinck is going to be married to Miss Cumberland. The Bishop of St. Asaph’s eldest daughter to the learned and ingenious Mr. Jones.” “_Portman Square, January ye 17th, 1782._ ... Montagu,” she writes to her sister-in-law, “returns to me only at Christmas and the long vacation. The last is spent entirely at Sandleford; for I think the worst thing one can do by young persons is to give them a habit of restlessness, which is now so prevalent in the fine world, that all domestick duties, even the tender parental attentions, are neglected for it....