losopher. In the journal which he
began to keep in the year he went to Westminster School is the
following entry:--'October 28, 1803.--Very great mist in the morning,
but afternoon very fine. There was a grand review to-day by the King in
Hyde Park of the Volunteers. I did not go, as there was such a quantity
of people that I should have seen nothing, and should have been knocked
down.' Most of the entries in the boy's journal are pithy statements of
matter of fact, as, for instance:--'Westminster, Monday, October 10.--I
was flogged to-day for the first time.' A few days later the young
diarist places on record what he calls some of the rules of the school.
He states that lessons began every morning at eight, and that usually
work was continued till noon, with an interval at nine for breakfast.
Lessons were resumed at two on ordinary days, and finished for the day
at five. 'All the fellows have verses on Thursdays and Saturdays. We go
on Sundays to church in the morning in Henry VII.'s Chapel, and in the
evening have prayers in the school.'

[Sidenote: DR. CARTWRIGHT AND WOBURN]

His 'broken and disturbed' education was next resumed at Woburn Abbey
under Dr. Cartwright; the Duke's domestic chaplain, and brother to Major
Cartwright, the well-known political reformer. The chaplain at Woburn
was a many-sided man. He was not only a scholar and a poet, but also
possessed distinct mechanical skill, and afterwards won fame as the
inventor of the power-loom. He was quick-witted and accomplished, and it
was a happy circumstance that the high-spirited, impressionable lad, who
by this time was full of dreams of literary distinction, came under his
influence. 'I acquired from Dr. Cartwright,' declared Lord John, 'a
taste for Latin poetry which has never left me.' Not merely at work but
at play, his new friend came to his rescue. 'He invented the model of a
boat which was moved by clockwork and acted upon the water by a paddle
underneath. He gave me the model, and I used to make it go across the
ponds in the park.' Meanwhile literature was not forgotten, and before
long the boy's juvenile effusions filled a manuscript book, which with
an amusing flourish of trumpets was dedicated to 'the Right Hon. William
Pitt, Chancellor of the Exchequer.' A couple of sentences will reveal
its character, and the dawning humour of the youthful scribe:--'This
little volume, being graced with your name, will prosper; without it my
labour would b