You are let into the King's
bedchamber just as he has put on his shirt; he dresses and talks
good-humouredly to a few, glares at strangers, goes to mass, to dinner,
and a-hunting. The good old Queen, who is like Lady Primrose in the
face, is at her dressing-table, attended by two or three old ladies, who
are languishing to be in Abraham's bosom, as the only man's bosom to
whom they can hope for admittance.
[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_]
Old age is no such uncomfortable thing, if one gives oneself up to it
with a good grace, and don't drag it about
To midnight dances and the public show.
If one stays quietly in one's own house in the country, and cares for
nothing but oneself, scolds one's servants, condemns everything that is
new, and recollects how charming a thousand things were formerly that
were very disagreeable, one gets over the winters very well, and the
summers get over themselves.
[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_]
As I was writing this, my servants called me away to see a balloon; I
suppose Blanchard's, that was to be let off from Chelsea this morning. I
saw it from the common field before the window of my round tower. It
appeared about a third of the size of the moon, or less, when setting,
something above the tops of the trees on the level horizon.
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