It is just midnight. The old year is in the act of leaving us, and the new year is darting into his place, when I address you, my dear Bess, from my solitary, but superb and tapestried, chamber, with all possible good wishes that the flight of time may be constantly marked with new blessings to you. We are taking holiday with Mr. Coke, who is all kindness and hospitality; Lady Anne unaffected, good-humoured, and very sensible and entertaining; the four boys perfect models of health, playfulness, and hardihood. . . . I wish you could see Sir Joshua’s original picture of Fox, painted for Lord Crewe, and left by his lordship to Coke;—the finest picture Reynolds ever painted, and one of the finest faces the Almighty ever formed. There is something inexpressibly attractive in the old gossip relating to him with which this place abounds.
We have been riding on the sea-sands among the wild geese to-day, and are to visit Hoghton, Lord Orford’s seat, to-morrow.
