The number "22" written in the top left of the first leaf. Three Mile Cross Novr 27th 1820. To Sir W. Elford

Ah my dear Sir William, we were forced to illuminate--think of that! An illumination at Three Mile Cross! Forced to put up two dozen of candles upon pain of pelting & rioting & all manner of bad things. So we did--we were very shabby though compared to our neighbours.--one--a retired publican just below--had a fine transparency composed of a pocket handkerchief with the Queen's head upon it--a very fine head in a hat & feathers cocked quite knowingly on the side--Our neighbour the Wheeler above was finer still--he had a shell work grotto in his window gaily lighted up, with the Queen in it for a hermit in the shape of a wax doll with a Friar's gown &a long veil. I ventured all through the squibs to look at these curiosities, & did not get blown up to the moon, as had very nearly been the case with a particular friend of mine in Oxfordshire who was set on fire last week with a stray rocket & almost frightened &out of her wits. I did not go to Reading--the squibbery there was too much to encounter, & they had only one good hit in that illustrious town. A poor Publican had had a whole length transparency of the Duke of Wellington for the Peace illumination, & not knowing what to get how, he as a matter of economy hung up the noble Duke again topsy turvy--bottom upwards--a mixture of drollery & lovingness which took my fancy much--& certainly bad as she is, she has contrived to trip up the heels of the ministers. One of the best things that I have heard on this occasion was said by our cidevant neighbour the Duke of Marlborough. You know we are famous for laugh laugh Duke's hereabouts. On being asked his opinion of the K and Q. He said "One's bad & the other's worse" "Which does your Grace put first? "Either".--This with his stutter as Harry Marsh gives it, is an amusing piece of truth.--Another for bon mot of Mr. Hobhouse's I heard the other day--Perhaps you have seen heard it--They were accusing her of bribing the newspaper & he said--"Well--they have given her the for six years & it's hard she can't have the for six months"--By the way did you see a very clever parody of the Queen's "answers" in the Courier? They caught Mr. bombast exactly--I never saw better burlesque I But I have the honor to wish queen her Majesty a good night we shall talk of a pleasanter subject.

Have you seen Turner's ? It's a pretty book to look at tales of Gothic Architecture.--& not amiss to read. There is not much new in it--but it talks away agreeably enough of old castles & old Churches & old walls & old tombs, & the charm of the subject carries one through. Nobody can know less than> I do of Gothic architecture (or any architecture) & yet I love it passionately devotedly--An old cathedral is in its effect on my spirits just like Milton's poetry--absorbing, elevating capturing, overpowering.--If ever I get into one I don't know how to get out.--Mother has been lately at Winchester, where they are restoring the cathedral under the directions of Dr. Nott. It will be very grand when completed, & they are making new discoveries every day. Above all they have realized a supposition of Mr. Milner's which because it was in that entertaining mass of miracles & papistry his history of Winchester nobody believed--They have discovered under the old tower a Roman foundation--real genuine masonry--thus giving a colour to the worthy Bishop's notion that the Church was built on the piles of a Roman Temple--& in clearing out the which had been filled up for years with all sorts of rubbish several very fine mitred heads (& their bodies too as far as I know) have been discovered--the most perfect specimen monastic sculpture that have been found--they are taking casts of them. In the meantime the Chapter are vowing vengeance against Mr. Nott for spending so much money-- & he on his part now that all has been pulled about & must be set to rights again, feels quite secure in his vocation & has been terrifying about Normandy himself picking up new old ideas & setting his prebendal brethren at defiance.--The Cathedral was to have been so opened this Autumn with a musick meeting--instead of which it is all to pieces, cannot possibly be finished for these two years & will very probably not be completed in half a dozen. I am heartily glad of this, for these Prebends are all as rich as Jews (few of them I believe with less than four or five thousand a year Church Preferment) & its a fine thing to see that noble & almost loss but flourishing again under the auspices of the Church its ancient and munificent patroness. Don't you think so?

My dear friend do you read magazines? If you do not pray begin--all the best writing is in them--the best criticism & the best essays--the best fun. I don't mean the old magazine of course, nor half of the new--but some are capital. There's 's for instance with its audacious impudence & its deep & most intensely felt articles on German literature--its exceedingly good in 's magazine-- Scott's wife's in it you know, (Sir Walter)--& Wilson & Lockhart & Gillies & all the young wits--youth indeed is its prime characteristic--there is an infusion of new blood in 's magazine the effect of which is strongly felt in reading one of his numbers just after a number of the 's, Baldwin's --The impudence there is quite as great but more polished--there is all the difference between & a provincial town-- Baldwin's brass is of the finest sort of Corinthian brass--'s is of baser metal. Charles Lamb writes there too with his delicate humour, so quiet & graceful & genial & full of fine humanities--& Hazlitt--always so delightful. I would not give up the magazine ( Baldwin 's for there is another Simon Pure)--no--not for the Scotch novels!--Then there is the which used to be so bad--My particular friend & crony Mr. Talfourd had taken that in hand since last February & his articles are exquisite-- particularly his dramatic criticisms--Those & indeed all that he writes are distinguished by a peculiar spirit of cordiality & indulgence-- he is as various & distinguished in his praise, as other critics are in their censure--you feel that all that he says is fine to the very essence --his likenesses are perfect but he takes people at their best & sets forth their beauties instead of their defects. I never met--not even in Walter Scott with just lenient sympathy--such indulgence to human frailty--or such cordial delight in the beautiful & the good. With all this his writings are quite as entertaining as if he cut all he touched to mince meat like Hazlitt. But it is the nature of the man--he has a talent for admiration & enjoyment--He is to be called to the Bar next term & I prophesy that the world will soon hear of him. I am sure of his ultimate success but I particularly wish him to make his way soon, because he has been engaged these three years to a sweet young woman, one quite worthy of him, & those long engagements are hardwearing things. In case you or Mrs. Elford should see the I enclose you a list of his articles--for except his there are none worth reading. You will forgive the flattery about me. We are old friends you know.

Do you ever paint game and dogs? An adventure happened to my little pet Molly--(the pretty little Spaniel with long curling hair--so white & delicate & ladylike, that you admired so much when I had last the happiness of seeing you) which would make a pretty picture. Molly was beating a hedgerow about a month ago & jumped upon a pheasant--caught hold of it's tail--& held so fast that the bird being a strong old cock & making great efforts for his life fairly lifted her up in the air--the struggle lasted till the feathers gave way & the pheasant flew off leaving the honors of his plummage as spoil to poor Molly. Papa says the sight was beautiful-- that it happened in a very fine spot just under an oak pollard with ivy & holly & fern--contrasting its orange leaves, & the dog & the bird both glittering like gold & silver in a bright autumnal sun.--Goodnight my dear Sir William--I shall finish in a day or two--Goodnight--God bless you, my dear friend--

Tuesday Evening--I really am ashamed of this hand writing though I have found a delicious precedent for illegible calligraphy (is that fine word right?) In Fleury's --He had prepared in Elba proclamatiions for his landing & gave them to his secretary & soldiers to copy when on board the King --they could not read them, & gave them to him begging him to decipher such & such words--He could not read a syllable of them--but after puzzling for a moment threw them into the sea & began to dictate afresh those eloquent addresses which will last as long as the language. What a foundation to write a bad hand! Is it not? But chez les aveugles un langue est roi --so I pass for a good writer here you--you have no notion of the style of manuscript that prevails in this South ofBerkshire--all the young ladies letters look like lines of ms & us --& one in particular--that identical friend of mine who was half blown up the other day comes every week to exactly the same disgrace with Napoleon. Not content with knowing French very well in the old way she is learning it over again in a Monsieur Da-Da (I don't know his name--Dafief--I believe--or something like it) Monsieur Da's newfangled method-- by in which the patient (I beg pardon the pupil--one is so apt to mistake one kind of quackery for another) first writes a French sentence & then reads it aloud--how poor Eliza never could read her own writing in her life--so she stands suspected of being a dunce (which is great mistake) every Saturday night.--I shall certainly send you on one of her notes some day just as a foil to set off my clearness.--Or rather to show you that there are people who write worse--a fact respecting which you are rather sceptical. In the mean time I rely on your indulgence & Mrs. E. Elford's--she who is so very good to your poor little friend.

I see Mr. Elford is emancipated from his parlimentary chains--those chains of roses of which every body but yourself is so fond--they're I think the jigging backwards & forwards this Summer & Autumn must have fired the distant members exceedingly--Even Mr. Monck who lives so near began to complain.--By the way I hope that excellent person will look to his parting this time--for I shall put it in his power to make a notable mistake an opportunity which to do him justice he very seldom makes. I have just finished a packet for Miss James & hers & yours will go to him together--How you will share or you get Miss James's. She & I have a perpetual small commerce of needle work-- I am the better artist on muslin--she is a consummate milliner--so I work her frills & flounces & she makes my hats & caps--The present packet consists first of breadth of a frill with directions how to join it to the other half (which went last week) & how to make it up.-- Secondly of thanks for an announced new bonnet--& hints for the construction of the same--(Lord how you would laugh at all this grave palaver about gauze & satin!)--Thirdly of a long engagement about coaches &--(She is coming here in February on her return from Birmingham had hoped she come going). Fourthly of an offer to he sister Emily of seeds for her garden (sweetpeas--China aster & mignonettes & such varieties)-- fifthly of an able article, though I say it that should not say it, on Sir Thomas Brown's Vulgar Wars (She is as old English mad as I)-- There's a package for you--if you should get it!!!-- Goodbye my dear friend! Kindest regards from all here, & my most respectful compliements to Mrs. E. Elford.--I write very soon & very long--you see how obedient I am--

& believe me ever very affectionately your's M. R. Mitford.