ving left an umbrella in Lansdown-crescent, I inquired of the gentleman
to whom I am indebted for my introduction to Mr. Beckford if he thought
it would be taking a liberty if I sent in my name when I called for it.
"I really don't know what to say" was the answer, "you must do as you
think proper. I will only say that for my part I am always looking out
for squalls, but I daresay he will be glad to see you." I accordingly
determined to make a bold stroke and call on him, remembering the old
adage, "Quidlibet audendum picturis atque poetis." The weather was most
delightful. A wet and cold summer had been succeeded by warm autumnal
days, on which the sun shone without a cloud; it was one of those seasons
of settled fair so uncommon in our humid country, when after witnessing a
golden sunset you might sleep

Secure he'd rise to-morrow.

I therefore called at the great man's house, and found the umbrella in
the exact corner in the ante-room where it had been left a fortnight
before, and told the porter to announce my name to his master. I waited
in anxiety in the hall a few moments. The footman returned, saying his
master was engaged, but if I would walk upstairs Mr. Beckford would come
to me. The servant led the way to the Duchess Drawing Room, opened the
door, and on my entering he retired, leaving me alone in this gorgeous
apartment, wondering what the dickens I did there. You may suppose I was
not a little delighted at this mark of confidence, and spent several
minutes examining the pictures till the author of "Vathek" entered, his
countenance beaming with good nature and affability. He extended his
hand in the kindest manner, and said he was extremely glad to see me. I
instantly declared the purport of my visit, that I had some copies of
pictures that were once in his possession, and that it would give me the
greatest possible pleasure to show them to him. "I shall be delighted to
see them" was the reply, "but for some days I am rather busy; I will come
next week." "You have had a visit from the author of 'Italy'," I
observed; "people say that you like Mr. R.'s poem." "Oh yes, some
passages are very beautiful. He is a man of considerable talent; but who
was that person he brought with him? What a delightful man! I suppose
it was Mr. L." I replied, "I believe they are great friends."

"What an awful state the country is in (he observed)! One has scarcely
time to think about poetry or painting, or