‘_l._—Had the packet sailed this morn as I expected I should not have scaled, as I never did before, Shakespeare’s Cliff. By the way it is by no means so formidable as I expected from it. I think the look down from its perpendicular position very striking, and when I reflected how much more it must be from the summit, the reflection, perhaps, injured the principal effect (_l._). This is a proof that we ought never, when a powerful impression is wished, to advance to the principal point gradually. It should come upon us at once; nor should I have seen Mr. Harris’s drill plough,[116] which I liked much better from seeing it than from the print. But I principally should have wanted time to run over my accounts, to review the debts and credits of several loose memoranda, and find from the result that I had not acted imprudently or unguardedly in omitting the necessary preparations to such a journey. My dear child, my lovely Bobbin, I left in perfect health, the rest of my family well and provided for in every respect as they themselves had chalked out, the ‘Annals’ lodged in the hands of a man on whose friendship and abilities I could entirely confide. Revolving these circumstances in my mind gave me pleasure, so that I could hardly regret in the evening the day which in the morning I had pronounced lost. At night I went into a bye boat[117] and had a villainous passage of fourteen hours. Nine hours rolling at anchor had so fatigued my mare that I thought it necessary for her to rest one day, but next morning I left Calais. ‘_l._—Wait at Desseins three days for a wind, Dover, London, Bradfield, and have more pleasure in giving my little girl a French doll than in viewing Versailles.’[118] The journey to France cost me 118_l._ 15_s._ 2_d._ Things bought, 20_l._ 17_s._; books, 8_l._ 16_s._ 6_d._ This year I had a long visit at Bradfield from M. Bukaty, nephew to the Polish Ambassador, a heavy, dull man with a Tartar countenance. His intention was to learn agriculture, but he made a poor progress. My correspondence this year contained much variety, and I have reperused many of the letters with much pleasure. In the number were the following:— From Sir J. Sinclair[119] on clothing for sheep, which he sent and desired me to buy. I did so, and the rest of the flock took them I suppose for beasts of prey, and fled in all directions, till the clothed sheep jumping hedges and ditches soon derobed themselves. ‘Whitehall: April 11, 1787. ‘Sir,—I went yesterday to Knightsbridge, and have ordered the canvas for covering the sheep, which will be ready next week, and I shall be glad to know how it can be best forwarded.