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[270] than half were pheasants. The person who killed the most was Lord Spencer, though the oldest man there. This success, of course, gave great spirits to the party at dinner, a good deal of wine was consumed, —though nobody showed any disposition to drink to excess,—and the evening passed off very pleasantly. It was certainly as splendid a specimen as I could have hoped to see, of what is to be considered peculiarly English in the life of a British nobleman of the first class at his country-seat. I enjoyed it highly.

The next day was much more quiet. Several of the party went to town, and, though Lord Auckland and one or two others came down to the Abbey, the number was seriously diminished. I had the more time and opportunity to see the establishment and become acquainted with its inhabitants. Considered as a whole, Woburn Abbey is sometimes called the finest estate in England. As I went over it, I thought I should never find an end to all its arrangements and divisions. Within—besides the mere house, which is the largest and most splendid I have seen—is the picture-gallery, containing about two hundred pieces, many of which, of the Spanish and Italian schools, are of great merit; and the library, which is a magnificent collection of splendid books, composed of beautiful editions of the best authors, in all languages, besides a mass of engravings and maps. I could have occupied myself in these apartments for a month. Outside, there are the aviary, fish-ponds, greenhouses, the gardens, tennis-court, riding-school, etc., and a gallery containing a few antiques that are curious, especially the immense Lanti vase, which has been much talked about, and well deserves it. . . . .

The Duke of Bedford is now about fifty-five, a plain, unpretending man in his manner, reserved in society, but talking well when alone, and respectable in debate in the House of Peers; a great admirer of the fine arts, which he patronizes liberally; and, finally, one of the best farmers in England, and one of those who have most improved the condition of their estates by scientific and careful cultivation. . . . . Lord John is a young man of a good deal of literary knowledge and taste, from whose acquaintance I have had much pleasure.1

On the 4th February I left the hospitality, kindness, and quiet enjoyment of Woburn Abbey, and went over to Cambridge. . . . . Of the society at Cambridge I had a pretty fair specimen, I imagine, though I passed only three days there. The first afternoon, on my arrival, I went to young Craufurd's, son of Sir James, whom I knew in Italy last winter. He had just taken his degree, and is to receive a fellowship


1 They had met in Italy. See ante, p. 166.

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