occupations, impatient to partake of the instruction which Eden and his curates, and often some of the better informed inhabitants of the place, are in the habit of dispensing. [1] Afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells. September 15th, 1838 {p.132} [Page Head: AN INVITATION TO WINDSOR.] Yesterday again at Windsor for a Council. I had made up my mind not to stay if invited, and meant to hasten away; but before I could do so Melbourne came after me and said, 'You will stay here? the Queen desired me to ask you.' I said I had no evening dress, had come by the railroad, and walked from Slough; could not assume that I should be asked, and did not know what to do. He said, 'She meant it as a civility, and thought you would like it.' There was a sort of reproach conveyed in the tone, and that induced me to say, 'So I should if I had only known of it, but as it is I can send for my things if you like.' He ended by desiring I would do what I liked best myself, promised that he would take care the Queen was not offended, and that nobody else would know anything of the matter. I accordingly resolved to go, and went away with Lord Albemarle. My mind misgave me, and I had a great mind to stay, especially as Lord Albemarle told me they did not mean to turn me out after dinner, but that sleeping there was a matter of course. Then I was sorry I had not stayed, which I might just as well have done, for I had nothing else to do. At these Councils we meet in common morning dress, which we used not to do. London, October 26th, 1838 {p.133} A blank month: to Newmarket, to Buckenham, back to Newmarket, to Cromer (fine, wild, bleak coast), Buckenham again, Newmarket, London, Norman Court, and here again; heard nothing, learnt nothing, altogether unprofitable, Durham's resignation[2] the only event, the _denouement_ of which nobody can guess. The Ministers ought never to have sent him, knowing what he was, and this has not been their only fault. Norman Court[3] is a very enjoyable place; close to it was (for it has lately been pulled down) the house from which Lady Mary eloped with Mr. Wortley. There I met the doctor who attended young Sam Day (who won the St. Leger for me on Mango) after the fall of which he died, and he gave me a striking account of the deathbed scene, the actors in which, albeit of an humble and unpolished class, displayed feelings not the less intense from the simplicity of their expression, and the total absence of that morbid or conventional sensibility which gives a sort of dramatic dignity to the grief of the great ones. The boy himself died like a hero, with a firmness, courage, and cheerfulness which would have been extolled to the skies in some conspicuous character on whom the world has been accustomed to gaze, but which in the poor jockey boy passed unheeded and unknown, and it is only the few as obscure as himself who witnessed his last moments who are aware that, wherever his bones rest--