“The sons of Apollo haunt this place much; the tuneful Green[130] is gone, but the poetical Dr. Young is with us. I am much entertained with him, he is a very sensible man, has a lively imagination, and strikes out very pretty things in his conversation, tho’ he has satyrized the worst of our sex, he honours the best of them extremely, and seems delighted with those who act and think reasonably. I think he has written a Satire against that composition of oddity, affectation, and folly which is called ‘a pretty sort of a woman,’--if anyone has a mind to put on that character they need only pervert their sense, distort their faces, disjoint their limbs, mince their phrases, and lisp their words, and the thing is done, grimaces, trite sentences, affected civility, forced gaiety, and an imitation of good nature completes the character.... That sentences, systems and definitions should give way to Cribbage, but two Duchesses command my presence! The Duchess of Kent[131] came here yesterday; she is a very sensible polite woman, and she wants one to play Cribbage, so my dear, dear sister, Adieu! “E. R.” [130] Dr. Green, a celebrated musician. [131] The second wife of Henry (Grey), 1st Duke of Kent, _née_ Sophia Bentinck, great-aunt of the Duke of Portland of these pages. [Page heading: THE DUCHESS OF KENT] In a letter to Mrs. Robinson-- “The Duchess of Kent is very agreeable, has good sense and politeness, and those who know her well say many valuable qualities. I look upon my Duchess as the Arch-Duchess, before whom all lesser stars hide their diminished heads; as for Dr. Young, he is a very sensible man, and an entertaining companion, and starts new subjects of conversation, and there is nothing so much wanted in the country as the art of making the same people chase new topics without change of persons. The Duchess and Dr. Young design to leave us to-morrow.... Dr. Sandys has given Deb quicksilver, which has been of great service to her, and it appears that she had worms.” “Deb” was Elizabeth’s lady’s maid. The Pharmacopeia was then of such an extraordinary kind, that from time to time I shall mention the remedies used for various complaints; why more people were not killed by some of the nostrums is marvellous. Elizabeth writes to Sarah on November 1, telling her she is reading the “Decameron” of Boccaccio. The duchess was also renewing her Italian knowledge. They were reading aloud Dr. Samuel Clarke’s sermons, and she says-- “Hay[132] is an auditor, as he cannot read himself; Mr. Achard is a translator of pronunciation so that one would take his English to be French when he reads aloud, then as for the Duke, he hunts thrice a week, and has business, so that our invalid is glad of a female lecturer.” [132] The Hon. John Hay, son of 7th Earl of Kinnoul, a relation of the duchess, then a great invalid.