In London I made a point, as a stranger, of going everywhere, and was certainly much delighted with every thing.  I must confess, however, that I thought all the acting at the Opera and Theatres, and all the eloquence of the Houses of Parliament, as nothing in comparison of what I saw and tasted at the East India and London Docks.  When I was in the House of Lords, a companion whispered to me, that he had heard an act read, offering a reward of 10,000_l._ for a male tortoise-shell cat.  This I believe, indeed, is a very safe offer, for such a thing was never heard of.  And it is certainly as much worth their while as making an act that I should never have more than six dishes of meat at my dinner, or that I should not be buried in linen above twenty shillings Scots value per ell, although I wished it particularly, and could well afford to pay for it.  There was, however, one restrictive act, which had sense in it; and the husbands of the present day would, I dare say, give their ears that it were still in force, whatever the dressmakers might think of it.  But many of their acts of Parliament are silly enough—­as they must be; for they don’t like to be thought idle, and imagine that it is necessary to be always enacting something.

It is curious, indeed, how fashion should be every thing in the great city.  A lady could not possibly venture to see her dearest friend on earth, or even her own sister, if she happened to live in rather an unfashionable part of the town.  By so doing, she would expose herself to her own footmen, who very properly would lose all respect for her, and I suppose instantly leave her service, as, poor fellows, they have a rank in life to keep up!!  John Bull certainly gives himself many airs, to say the least of it.  After receiving the greatest kindness and hospitality from you in Scotland, and perhaps staying for months in your house, he will cut you dead in London.  I remember once meeting with such a return, but took it, of course, very coolly.  Next day, when I was arm in arm with ——­ ——­, I happened again to meet my quondam friend, who immediately rushed up to me—­I, however, turned on my tail, and did not know him.—­Fashion is an odd thing after all.  It is not rank which will do.  I have seen many a spendthrift young commoner cut his uncle the duke; and being a duchess by no means will ensure admittance at Almack’s.—­I thank my stars, I am not fashionable, and am always happy to see my friends!

I was persuaded, soon after reaching London, to go down to Essex for a few days, to pay a visit to an old friend.  When I arrived at his house, which I think they called Waltham Abbey, I was sorry to receive the melancholy accounts that he had been devoured, and that, if I did not instantly take myself off, I should be dealt with in the same manner.  The truth was, that a famine had arisen; and it is well known, on those occasions, as necessity has no law, that the stronger kills the weaker.  Day after day the combat is renewed, till at last all except one are destroyed, and he is then obliged to decamp, or eat himself up, as he likes best.  It is in this way that castles, houses, &c. which have been long infested by us, are so suddenly entirely freed from our presence.