Mr. Wendeborn lives in New Inn, near Temple Bar, in a philosophical, but not unimproving, retirement.  He is almost become a native; and his library consists chiefly of English books.  Before I proceed, I must just mention, that he has not hired, but bought his apartments in this great building, called New Inn:  and this, I believe, is pretty generally the case with the lodgings in this place.  A purchaser of any of these rooms is considered as a proprietor; and one who has got a house and home, and has a right, in parliamentary or other elections, to give his vote, if he is not a foreigner, which is the case with Mr. Wendeborn, who, nevertheless, was visited by Mr. Fox when he was to be chosen member for Westminster.

I saw, for the first time, at Mr. Wendeborn’s, a very useful machine, which is little known in Germany, or at least not much used.

This is a press in which, by means of very strong iron springs, a written paper may be printed on another blank paper, and you thus save yourself the trouble of copying; and at the same time multiply your own handwriting.  Mr. Wendeborn makes use of this machine every time he sends manuscripts abroad, of which he wishes to keep a copy.  This machine was of mahogany, and cost pretty high.  I suppose it is because the inhabitants of London rise so late, that divine service begin only at half-past ten o’clock.  I missed Mr. Wendeborn this morning, and was therefore obliged to enquire of the door-keeper at St. Paul’s for a direction to the German church, where I was to preach.  He did not know it.  I then asked at another church, not far from thence.  Here I was directed right, and after I had passed through an iron gate to the end of a long passage, I arrived just in time at the church, where, after the sermon, I was obliged to read a public thanksgiving for the safe arrival of our ship.  The German clergy here dress exactly the same as the English clergy—­i.e., in long robes with wide sleeves—­in which I likewise was obliged to wrap myself.  Mr. Wendeborn wears his own hair, which curls naturally, and the toupee is combed up.

The other German clergymen whom I have seen wear wigs, as well as many of the English.

I yesterday waited on our ambassador, Count Lucy, and was agreeably surprised at the simplicity of his manner of living.  He lives in a small private house.  His secretary lives upstairs, where also I met with the Prussian consul, who happened just then to be paying him a visit.  Below, on the right hand, I was immediately shown into his Excellency’s room, without being obliged to pass through an antechamber.  He wore a blue coat, with a red collar and red facings.  He conversed with me, as we drank a dish of coffee, on various learned topics; and when I told him of the great dispute now going on about the tacismus or stacismus, he declared himself, as a born Greek, for the stacismus.

When I came to take my leave, he desired me to come and see him without ceremony whenever it suited me, as he should be always happy to see me.