er preference and affectation of the
manners, the language, and the literature of France. But my progress
in the English world was in general left to my own efforts, and those
efforts were languid and slow. I had not been endowed by art or nature
with those happy gifts of confidence and address, which unlock every
door and every bosom; nor would it be reasonable to complain of the just
consequences of my sickly childhood, foreign education, and reserved
temper. While coaches were rattling through Bond-street, I have passed
many a solitary evening in my lodging with my books. My studies were
sometimes interrupted by a sigh, which I breathed towards Lausanne; and
on the approach of Spring, I withdrew without reluctance from the noisy
and extensive scene of crowds without company, and dissipation without
pleasure. In each of the twenty-five years of my acquaintance with
London (1758-1783) the prospect gradually brightened; and this
unfavourable picture most properly belongs to the first period after my
return from Switzerland.

My father's residence in Hampshire, where I have passed many light, and
some heavy hours, was at Beriton, near Petersfield, one mile from the
Portsmouth road, and at the easy distance of fifty-eight miles from
London. An old mansion, in a state of decay, had been converted into the
fashion and convenience of a modern house: and if strangers had nothing
to see, the inhabitants had little to desire. The spot was not happily
chosen, at the end of the village and the bottom of the hill: but the
aspect of the adjacent grounds was various and cheerful; the downs
commanded a noble prospect, and the long hanging woods in sight of the
house could not perhaps have been improved by art or expence. My father
kept in his own hands the whole of the estate, and even rented some
additional land; and whatsoever might be the balance of profit and loss,
the farm supplied him with amusement and plenty. The produce maintained
a number of men and horses, which were multiplied by the intermixture
of domestic and rural servants; and in the intervals of labour the
favourite team, a handsome set of bays or greys, was harnessed to the
coach. The oeconomy of the house was regulated by the taste and prudence
of Mrs. Gibbon. She prided herself in the elegance of her occasional
dinners; and from the uncleanly avarice of Madame Pavilliard, I was
suddenly transported to the daily neatness and luxury of an English
table. Our immedia