such words from the mother of such a son? She very kindly sent for his purse as Lord Chancellor (you know the purse is a perquisite of office), a richly wrought bag, which costs one hundred pounds, and in which the Chancellor puts the great seal and the petitions which he presents to the King. She said that once the Chancellor apologized to his Majesty for troubling him with so many petitions, when the King promptly replied, ‘I shall be glad to see you take any thing out of the bag except the great seal.’ She was afraid that I should be dull; and was pleased to regret that there was not more company in the house to amuse me. My recollections of this woman will be of the most charming character.
Hallstead's, Sept. 7 (Evening).I am now at the beautiful seat1 of Mr. John Marshall, the former member for Yorkshire, and the father of the present member for Carlisle. Lord Brougham was engaged to pass this evening and to-morrow with the Bishop of Carlisle, about seventeen miles off; so I took my leave. He was busied in his studies, with a quire of manuscripts before him, and with five or six books open on top of each other, the upper one being Greek; I thought it the ‘Orations of Demosthenes.’2 He franked this letter to you, shook me cordially by the hand, thanked me for visiting him, apologized for not waiting upon me to the door, and bade me good-by. Before I had reached the door of the room where he was, his head was down and he was absorbed in his studies. I have forgotten to tell you that he will have an article in the next ‘Edinburgh,’ following out his former one, and replying to the strictures upon it, particularly those of Sir Herbert Taylor. Such was my visit to Lord B. and the impression it has made on my mind. I have written, as you will perceive, with great haste as well as freedom, and cannot write to any of my other friends on this same theme; you will, therefore, in your discretion, show this letter to those who may take an interest in it, remembering carefully that nothing in it is for publication, and that not a word must escape to the public. Hallstead's, where I now am, is a beautiful seat on the banks of the Ulleswater Lake. From here I shall make excursions to see Wordsworth and Southey, and then pass on to Sir David Brewster, at Melrose. As ever, most affectionately your friend, P. S. Brougham made great fun of the thirty-nine articles, and told the story of a naval officer, who, in the House of Commons, said: ‘I am for the sixty-nine articles.’ ‘Thirty-nine, you mean,’ was the cry. The gallant officer replied: ‘Thirty-nine or sixty-nine, I am for the articles.’ Old