(1822), and I answering that, it was likely that many of them would actually be starved to death, the Baron, quitting his green goose and green pease, turned to me and said, "_Starved_, Sir! Why don't they go to _the parish_?" "Why," said I, "you know, Sir, that there are no poor-rates in Ireland." Upon this he exclaimed, "What! no poor-rates in Ireland! Why not? I did not know that; I can't think how that can be." And then he rambled on in a childish sort of way. At the end of about half an hour, or, it might be more, I shook hands with the poor old Baron for the last time, well convinced that I should never see him again, and not less convinced, that I had seen his _heir_. He died in about a year or so afterwards, left to his own family about 20,000_l._, and to his ghostly guide, the Holy Robert Fellowes, all the rest of his immense fortune, which, as I have been told, amounts to more than a quarter of a million of money. Now, the public will recollect that, while Mr. Fellowes was at the Queen's, he was, in the public papers, charged with being an _Unitarian_, at the same time that he officiated _as her chaplain_. It is also well known, that he never publicly contradicted this. It is, besides, the general belief at Reigate. However, this we know well, that he is a parson, of one sort or the other, and that he is not a Catholic priest. That is enough for me. I see this poor, foolish old man leaving a monstrous mass of money to this little Protestant parson, whom he had not even known more, I believe, than about three or four years. When the will was made I cannot say. I know nothing at all about that. I am supposing that all was perfectly fair; that the Baron had his senses when he made his will; that he clearly meant to do that which he did. But, then, I must insist, that, if he had left the money to a _Catholic priest_, to be by him expended on the endowment of a convent, wherein to say masses and to feed and teach the poor, it would have been a more sensible and public-spirited part in the Baron, much more beneficial to the town and environs of Reigate, and beyond all measure more honourable to his own memory. _Chilworth, Friday Evening, 21st Oct._ It has been very fine to-day. Yesterday morning there was _snow_ on Reigate Hill, enough to look white from where we were in the valley. We set off about half-past one o'clock, and came all down the valley, through Buckland, Betchworth, Dorking, Sheer and Aldbury, to this place. Very few prettier rides in England, and the weather beautifully fine. There are more meeting-houses than churches in the vale, and I have heard of no less than five people, in this vale, who have gone crazy on account of religion.