In 1753 I went to London, and find by an old pocket-book that I saw Mr. Garrick in ‘Archer,’[5] heard the Oratorio, ‘The Messiah,’ spent an evening at Ranelagh, and viewed the Tower and St. Paul’s. I also remember visiting the widow of General Ingoldsby, who opened her house every evening to all comers, nor was the number of fashionable people inconsiderable. John Wilkes, afterwards so well known, I met there more than once; he was then considered a wit. Mrs. Ingoldsby made a point of going to Court at least twice a year, but I never heard her repeat any other conversation with the King than complaining to him how much she was afflicted with rheumatism. In 1754 died Mrs. Sidney Kennon, a lady highly respected and well known as the midwife to the Princess of Wales; she also brought into the world my brother, sister and myself, and was a very old friend of my father’s, and him she left executor and residuary legatee. That her professional emoluments were of some consideration was proved by the fact of a gentleman after her decease presenting her executor with fifty guineas as her fee for having delivered his wife. By her will all her furniture and a great collection of medals, bronzes, shells, curiosities, books on natural history, &c. with money in the funds, came into his possession, to the amount of nearly five thousand pounds. By a codicil she had ordered that her servants should be retained and the house kept for six months after her death, in consequence of which our family moved into her residence in Clifford Street. It was, of course, to be expected that my father would sell all the curiosities, but that a clergyman, a man of learning, having a son of my brother’s attainments should dispose of such a collection, was not looked for; my maternal Uncle, de Cousmaker, dining one day at the house enquired as to my father’s intentions. On being informed that everything would go to an auction, he asked the price. My father replied that the articles had not been valued, but he supposed that they would fetch fifty or sixty pounds. Mr. de C. at once offered sixty guineas, the bargain was struck, and the books departed next day, to our great mortification; the price was preposterous, as the collection contained many curious and scarce publications, and my Uncle afterwards sold many of the duplicates for a greater amount than he had given for the whole, yet retaining a most valuable number. As a proof of the worth of what might be called Mrs. Kennon’s Museum, I insert a letter to her from Sir Martin Folkes, President of the Royal Society.