Journal.
Sunday, September 27.—After breakfast—which was rather late, and over which we lounged a good while—Lord Fitzwilliam asked who would drive to church; all but two of the ladies declined.
It seems to be the custom of the house to employ the carriages as little as possible on Sundays, so that we made a formidable procession, the children and all constituting about twenty.
Those of the tenantry who were in the churchyard-perhaps a dozen—drew up to the path and took off their hats as Lord Fitzwilliam passed in. . . . . The church is small, very old, and has nothing curious about it but a few old monuments, especially one to Lord Strafford's father and one to himself, all quite rude.
He was the last distinguished person buried here; his son, with the Rockinghams,
Fitzwilliams, etc., being deposited in York Minster.
The pew of the family is of oak, very rudely carved, and has a shattered look; but it is in the state in which it was when the famous
Strafford sat there, and has his arms ill cut in several places. . . . . I could not help imagining how things looked when he was there, and the great
Marquis of
Rockingham, and when
Burke and
Fox sat there, as they often did, with the late Lord Fitzwilliam.
I had many strange visions about it, and little heeded poor old
Mr. Lowe. . . . We lounged slowly home through the grounds and gardens. . . .
After lunch, Lord Fitzwilliam said he should go to hear a charity sermon two or three miles off, and asked who would go with him; but all declined except
Lady Mary and
Mr. Thompson, it being understood that
Dr. Dundas would read the evening service in the chapel after dinner.
Instead of going to church we made a party at half past 3, to see the stables and the establishment for young horses at one of the lodges.
They were well worth the trouble. . . . .
After dinner. . . . the party distributed itself through the gallery and the library rooms, to the number of about thirty.
A little before nine o'clock the groom of the chambers came as usual and said, ‘ My lord, the chapel is ready,’ and everybody went.
About seventy or eighty servants were there when we went in, and with the family and visitors made quite a respectable congregation.
The ladies were in the gallery, the female servants chiefly under it. . . . .
September 28.—We intended to have left Wentworth House this morning, and, passing the day at
Sheffield, about ten miles off, have proceeded on our journey to-morrow; but I found Lord Fitzwilliam had invited
Montgomery, the poet, to meet us, and that they had proposed
