Till lately I have never read Spenser, and therefore was not personally acquainted with his beauties. Neither do I mean to say that now I have read his “Faerie Queene;” but, having accidentally met with an extract from his “Hymn of Heavenly Love,” a long poem, I went to papa’s study and read the whole poem, which is most exquisitely beautiful, and is perhaps equal to anything Milton ever wrote. It is very simple, but highly poetical, and a pious feeling runs throughout. I was so much delighted with it that I read another, his “Hymne of Heavenly Beautie,” which in point of poetic excellence perhaps exceeds the other. He has written a great many more long poems, together with sonnets and epitaphs; but I have not read these. Papa’s copy of his poems is a very old edition, printed in the time of Queen Elizabeth, to whom it is dedicated. The illuminations are very curious, and the engravings most laughable; the print is small, and the old words make it rather difficult to read.

This evening we had an unexpected visitor in Mr. Charles Shore, the eldest son of Lord Teignmouth.6 He is a very agreeable man, and has travelled a good deal, especially in many parts of Norway which are not well known. He has also been in Sweden, and has told us a great deal about both these countries. He says [13] that the scenery is wild and very magnificent, the glaciers are more extensive than even those of Switzerland, and mentioned some which were of vast size. One of these was nearly six thousand feet high; another was fifty-six miles long. This was the glacier of Upsala. The city of Stockholm is built on seven rocky islands in a lake, where it narrows into a river; the islands are connected by bridges not more than a hundred yards distant from each other. The streets have no pavements for foot travellers; it is, therefore, very dangerous to walk in them, for the sledges make no noise in coming, except, indeed, that each horse has a bell fastened to it. Each sledge has two horses, and is followed by another sledge bearing wheels, if they should be wanted. The post is regular, and as well conducted as ours; the royal palace is a vast square building. The manners of the Swedes are admirable, but the general society is very frivolous, and, though there are some people well informed in French and English literature, yet the greater part are devoted to balls, plays, and other idle amusements. Gustavus III. introduced French into his court, and it was his wish to call Stockholm the Paris of the north, but this did not meet the approbation of his subjects, who aim more at resembling the English. The present king is a very affable man, but possesses a good deal of dignity; he enjoys pretty good health. His countenance is very remarkable; his eye is kind, though large, dark, and piercing; his nose is hooked; but the greatest peculiarity of his face is that his mouth and chin recede a good deal. The queen is a very good-natured woman, but is devoted to balls, and commonly dines at nine o’clock, though the Swedes generally dine from one to three o’clock. Many of the noblesse are high aristocrats, and there is a strong party of opposition. The government consists of a diet of four chambers—one of nobles, one of peasants, one of the Church, and one of soldiers. Any decree must go through three of these [14] chambers before it can be passed. The regiments are local. They are a sort of militia; each is drawn from a province and remains there. There are guards, cavalry, and artillery; the colonel possesses lands and a farm.

The Norwegians are a fine, dark-haired, handsome race of people; the women, however, are not generally so. The costume of the common people is very different from ours, but varies in the different provinces. Mr. C. Shore talked Latin with the clergy, who did not understand English. He says that the Swedish is an easy language to learn. He, on one occasion, entered the house of a pastor in one of the wildest parts of Norway, and perceived there the portrait of his father, Lord Teignmouth, who was one of the principal promoters of the Bible Society. He immediately made himself known, and was, of course, received with all hospitality.

[Here is a little bit of child’s fun.]

We spent the afternoon also in the summer-house, and were joined by Mr. Howard and Mr. Gower. Arabella has a book about Africa, which was given to her on her birthday. So I having told this to Mr. Howard, he addressed Arabella with, “You know the Juvenile Library, do not you?”7 “Oh yes, I do, and I have got one of its books.” “I think they are all very nice books, except one, that about Africa.” This put Arabella into a direful rage, but she immediately retaliated by deprecating Reform, and denouncing the newspapers as only vehicles of deception. Mr. H. instantly fled away from hearing these offensive sounds, but she pursued him, exclaiming, “No Reform! no Reform! Down with Grey! hang Brougham!”8 To complete his anger, I presented him that same evening with some verses which I had written against Reform, and which provoked him extremely.

All the mob of Potton made a great riot to celebrate the passing of the Reform Bill,9 and paraded the town with the most hideous yells, accompanying a [15] triumphal car in the shape of a waggon completely covered with fresh boughs and bearing flags. They had also with them a band, and three large flags bearing the following inscriptions: “EARL GREY AND HIS COLLEAGUES,” “TAVISTOCK AND PAYNE FOR EVER,” “EARL GREY AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY,” “W.R. IV. AND REFORM.” I do not suppose that any of them understood what they were so noisy about. The procession took place late in the evening; the band entered our garden and played several tunes, while the flags were all the while waving before the windows.

I have been much interested in observing the operations of some ants in one of the garden-walks. These little insects have made very extensive buildings in one of the paths, both underground and above. With the earth which comes from their excavations, they build little domes and arches above ground, near the entrance. It is most interesting to watch the ants bringing out huge lumps of earth to make these domes with. I saw a single ant labouring up the steep sides of its hole, which was almost perpendicular, and carrying with it a lump of earth five times as big as itself. For three successive times the ant fell down with its burden as soon as it reached the top, but its perseverance prevailed, and it succeeded. Another ant, having fallen down, obtained the assistance of two others, and the united strength of the three dragged it quite up.

I picked up on the grass a palmer-worm, which is a caterpillar, so named because it travels about like a palmer or pilgrim. It has long, thick tufts of black and red hair, and a very minute gold spot to each ring; it crawls very quickly. It seems to eat chiefly the leaves of the dock, the vine, and the lilac.

Richard has found in the garden a beautiful caterpillar, which is now before me; it is nearly two inches long, with a number of thin tufts of hair on its body. There is a broad blue stripe on each of its sides, extending from [16] head to tail, and on every other part are alternate and narrow stripes of orange and black, besides a white stripe along the top of the back. The face is grey, and the eyes black; the hairs beneath the body are of an orange colour; it has ten rings on its body, and six legs before, besides eight holders nearer the tail. I have never before seen such a pretty caterpillar; the different colours are arranged so beautifully, and the blue is so exquisitely speckled with black. Round its neck it has a band of a grey colour, with two black spots, and the under part of the body is black and grey. I think it is much prettier than the palmer-worm, and I wish very much to know its name.

Richard and I went to sketch St. Leonard’s Monastery, an ancient Norman building now falling to ruins, but there still remain some beautiful arches, with very rich mouldings. I took a drawing of it from a very inconvenient place, and did not succeed very well. The boys in the street threw stones at us, and behaved very impudently, which my aunt attributes to Reform! What an idea!

Mr. Cayley found the Nummularia, or money-wort, which I had long wanted to see. It is very beautiful, of a delicate gold colour; the class is Pentandria, monogynia; the flowers are strung with the leaves along creeping stalks.

The chief flowers I found in my walks to-day were the Spirœa ulmaria, or meadow-sweet, a pretty flower with a very strong smell; the Veronica anagallis, or water-speedwell, a blue flower; Galium palustre, or white water lady’s-bed-straw; the Ligustrum vulgare, or privet; and the Lathyrus pratensis, or everlasting pea. Of these I like best the water bedstraw. It is extremely beautiful; the plant is small and delicate, and is entirely covered with clusters of very minute white flowers. The pea is a pretty yellow flower, and the stalk climbs round other plants.

This day was colder and more windy; in my walk I found the nest of some insect, I think it is a spider’s. It is formed amongst the gorse bushes, and resembles a deep, narrow thimble, formed of a cottony or silk substance, very thick, and impervious to the rain. It is always slanting, I suppose to prevent the rain from pouring in through the entrance, which is at the top; the edges of the entrance spread far and wide all round into a large and flat web, of the same cotton, which suspends the nest safely among the bushes. The cotton is beautifully woven, thick, and not easily torn.

Of all the caterpillars I brought home on Sunday, eight only remain; the rest have crawled away, and have been lost or trodden to death. Poor little creatures! I shall never keep caterpillars alive again. While they were in the full enjoyment of health and liberty, I took them prisoners, confined them in a box, and shut them up in a house, far from their homes; by which means almost all have been destroyed. It makes me quite unhappy to think of it. I shall certainly set them all at liberty to-morrow, and put them on one of the plants to which they belong.

The first thing I did this morning on rising was to set my caterpillars at liberty; and I was very glad I had done it. Louisa afterwards found another of them in my room, crawling about; this, too, I placed with its companions when I walked out.

We went to the sand-rock and had a nice game of play; only we dirtied ourselves terribly, at which Henrietta was much displeased. The sand-rock is very pretty on one side of the road, fronting it; it declines on each side into green hills, covered with fern and larches, which reach to the hedge. This rock is much inhabited by sand-martins, and is completely pierced by the holes which contain their nests. The sand-martin is a very pretty bird, about the size of a swallow; the upper part of the body is a [18] soft brown, underneath it is white; the shape is extremely elegant.

This evening, as papa and mamma were out in the gig, they saw at the Biggleswade turnpike road a man stretched out dead by the side of the road; but they thought he was asleep. It has since turned out that this is a case of cholera. If this dreadful disease reaches Potton it will, I fear, from the drunkenness that pervades the place (there being no less than thirteen public-houses, besides beershops), prove very fatal.

At tea-time papa told us a story of an adventure which happened to a lady at Bury St. Edmunds. She and her husband were walking in a field, when a bull attacked them furiously, and ran after them. They happened to have a little dog with them, which increased the fury of the animal. By dint of running as hard as possible they reached a stone fence or wall of some height. Her husband had but just time to throw his wife over, when the bull came up, and made so furiously at the wall that they expected every moment he would be over. The gentleman now thought that his only chance of safety was to throw the dog over to the enraged creature. He told his wife to run on (they had another gate to go through); he took the poor little animal in his arms and threw him over the wall. The dog, of course, ran away, the bull after it; it was tossed and gored. The lady never got over the fright; it eventually caused her death.

The way —— spends her day is as follows:*—First she will be down in a quarter of an hour, but does not make her appearance till the middle of a breakfast made late on her account. She rustles into the room, laughs, and eats her breakfast. After this she [19] dawdles a little while, and then sits down to her drawing. She every minute declares her abhorrence of it, and how she cannot go on with it any longer; however, it contrives to exist till luncheon; then she jumps up, calls on every one to praise her decision of character, and runs up to make away with it. Luncheon is ready, she goes into the parlour and makes a dinner, though it is only one o’clock. When she has finished she sits and talks a little while, then starts up and goes to the window to see the weather. Finding that it is just going to rain, she runs out into the garden, dragging all the house after her. A shower drives her in; on returning she finds one of her paints lost, which is no wonder, for the table is covered with her litters. After setting everybody in the room to look for it, it is found on the top of her paint-box. Dinner is announced. She laughs herself into the parlour, and makes a hearty meal. She concludes the day with gossip and screaming to the sound of the harp.

We went to Cambridge to-day. Papa and mamma took Richard and me with them. We got up very early and took a slight breakfast; then we set off in the gig, with the two ponies, and went through the most hideous country—all chalky, and in some parts the road was wretched. I, however, noticed a great many beautiful flowers in the hedges, many of which I did not know. When we were about a few miles from Cambridge we came to the top of an exceedingly steep hill, with deep places on each side in one part; here we had to get out and walk while the gig went down to the bottom of the hill. From this road was a very extensive and beautiful view before us; but what made me most glad to get out and walk was that I should be able to gather flowers. The chief of these was a very pretty flower, called the Campanula rapunculus; it is of a deep purple colour, and not tall from the ground. I took it home and copied it. Cambridge [20] is about twenty miles from Potton. We reached it at eight o’clock, and had breakfast immediately. Our object in coming was to see the chapels and colleges; so, after having gone shopping some time, we went to see them.

Jesus College is my favourite. The college itself is not worthy of attention, but the chapel is exquisite. It is an admirable specimen of Early English architecture, especially the choir, which is decorated with the most beautiful windows, and arches underneath them, each perfect in their kind, with extremely deep mouldings. One particular sort, called the dog’s-tooth moulding, peculiar to Early English, is found here. In the choir are two niches of remarkable beauty. The arches run into each other and twine together; they are surrounded by a square moulding of the dog’s-tooth sort; in its being square it somewhat resembles the Perpendicular style.

The chapel is in the form of a cross; but the central tower, instead of being open all the way to the top, is unhappily shut out from the spectator by a nasty ceiling of the same height as the rest of the chapel. I say “unhappily,” because what is above is perhaps more splendid even than the choir. We ascended by a dark winding staircase, but when we reached the interior of this tower itself it was exquisite! All round the wall (it was square) there were the most beautiful arches, with extraordinarily deep mouldings, and connected with each other; they were nearly all perfect. It is impossible for those who have not seen it to form an adequate idea of them. The capitals are in many places beautifully carved, and every arch has a cinquefoil belonging to it. I am glad to say that the ceiling is to be removed, and these noble arches will be laid open to view.

The hall in Jesus College contains two portraits—Archbishop Cranmer,10 and the celebrated Sterne. Cranmer is a copy painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Papa in his drive to-day found the Verbascum tetralix, or mullein, an extremely beautiful plant. The leaves grow at the root; they are large and very woolly, and crumpled all over. The blossoms are flat, of a very delicate yellow colour; the stamens are large, and completely fringed with purple hairs; the flowers grow in a very long spike, in hundreds together, quite closely, so as to form a most beautiful appearance; the stalks are single, and unbranched. This plant is found by roadsides in a sandy soil.

We found in our walk to-day a large locust, two inches in length, of a light green colour. He had six legs—the two hinder ones were those he leaped with; all the thighs were speckled with minute black spots. The top of his head was of a dark colour, his eyes black, and from above these, out of green roots, sprung two feelers, longer than his whole body, of a clear reddish yellow, speckled with black. On his neck there was something like a saddle; along his back extended a stripe of the colour of a dead leaf. His knees were brown, and his legs, downwards from his knees, full of little thorny points, and his claws very large. Four little jointed things, like very small legs, came from his mouth; the upper part of his body seemed to be composed of seven or eight broad rings, laid over each other like scales; the under part of the body was green, with two milk-white longitudinal stripes. I drew this creature; he constantly moved, but did not attempt to jump. I caught him in my handkerchief, and kept him an hour or two under a finger-glass turned upside down.

I again found the nettle-caterpillar. It has several double rings, each composed of very minute golden spots, which, when seen in a certain light, sparkle like silver or drops of dew; the hairs, too, are silvery. These caterpillars are slow in their motions.

… Besides this, we found a great curiosity, which few people have had an opportunity of seeing. It was discovered by mamma. The butcher-bird is in the habit of killing insects and small birds, and sticking them (sometimes alive) upon thorns; now we found a poor humble-bee stuck, living, on a thorn in a hedge, and, as it is impossible this could be by accident (for the thorn came quite through his body), we have every reason to conclude that the butcher-bird put it there.

As we were passing through a meadow, we saw a shepherd stand at a gate which led into a turnip-field; he called to the sheep, and, without the aid of any dog, they all came scampering from every part of the meadow, though it was a large one, till there was not one left. He then bade them pass into the turnip-field; they obeyed, and this the shepherd said they did constantly. It was quite a singular instance of obedience in sheep.

… The morning was extremely rainy, but after dinner we all took a walk. We saw a poor miserable woman in a tent by the roadside. Her name is Richardson; she has a bad, drunken husband, who has quite starved her; and, now that they cannot pay their rent, they have been turned out of their house. To add to her miseries, she is very ill, having just given birth to a child, and the hard rain has quite poured through the slender covering of the tent. Mamma has been once or twice to see her, and has given her broth, etc.

… In the evening papa began to read to us Shakespeare’s play of Julius Cæsar, and finished it to-day. I like it extremely; it is very fine, and the characters remarkably well drawn. Brutus is my favourite; the scene I like best is where he and Cassius quarrel and are reconciled. I am very fond of Portia also, but not Julius Cæsar, nor Mark Anthony.

The day was so fine and hot that I sat out of doors, [23] and I employed myself in carving a carrot into the shape of a man.

In our walk to-day, after dinner, we picked up a dead Norway rat, quite a young one; we at first thought it was a mouse, till mamma set us right again. It was four inches long, and the tail three inches; the head was very large; it had no neck; the ears were broad and bare. The eyes are large and black; the whiskers numerous; the mouth placed much under the head. The feet are bare and flesh-coloured; the two fore-feet are destitute of a thumb. The rat is brown; the throat and under-part of the body a greyish white; the tail dark and thinly covered with hairs.

It is surprising how many hornets we have seen in the last day or two; I am sure there is a nest very near. We caught a very large one to-day, and extremely handsome. We tried to put it to death with oil, but it was above an hour before we succeeded, for I was the performer, and did not know how much to apply. When papa, however, came out from dinner, he put a great quantity, so as completely to saturate it, and it soon died. But I shall never forget the agonies it seemed to suffer! It made an awful sound, rolled over and over, went round and round the glass, and sometimes even stood on its head. It was more painful to bear than even my poor caterpillars. We should have set it at liberty but that it was so dangerous a creature that we could not do it safely. I have got it now in my collection.

… It was now settled that we are to do what we have long had in contemplation, viz. to remove to Woodbury, a good house near Everton. The reason is that we find Potton agrees very ill with our health, while Woodbury is remarkably healthy, and is situated on the celebrated Gamlingay heath.

Mr. Howard is, indeed, the most [24] agreeable pupil papa has ever had. He is exceedingly amiable and good-tempered,* and is constantly with us in the drawing-room. Papa is very fond of him; he says that he does not suppose that in any company he would ever be caught assenting to what he did not feel, for he is remarkably open and candid; and mamma once said (which I dare say is very true) that he has a great deal of fine feeling. He is very intelligent, and has a good deal of information; in short, he is a particular favourite with all of us. To conclude, he has a fine and expressive countenance.

This evening I read Spenser’s poem, called “Mother Hubbard’s Tale,” a very long one. It is evidently a satire on the court and clergy, and a very bitter one too.

[Then follow three pages of extracts from the above-named poem, very accurately done.]

There is going on a sale of Mr. Wilkinson’s furniture at Woodbury, and papa went to attend at it. When he returned he told us a story of what had happened. He rode on horseback, and on his way heard the fox-hounds for some time; he knew that they were to throw off that day, and hoped he should not get in their way. However, he arrived safe at Woodbury. The auctioneer, Mr. Carington, was at his work, when a cry was heard of, “There they are!” Behold, the whole set of hounds, pursuing the fox, dashed through the garden, over the beds and everything! Papa was, of course, not highly delighted, but every one else was in ecstasies. The ladies jumped up and clapped their hands; Mr. C. blew a horn which he had in his pocket or somewhere, and leaped out of the window into the garden, with all the ragamuffins after him. Papa, finding it in vain to try and stop them, walked out [25] with Mr. Wilkinson to see if he could not hinder them from doing damage. Mr. W. ordered the door of the courtyard to be opened, that the fox might pass through; but, unluckily, there was no one to open it, and he was obliged to turn back, the dogs quite close to him all the way, and even brushing by papa. The animal made the greatest exertions, but could only reach the greenhouse, and there the hounds killed poor foxey; he was quite unhappy, and with his tail between his legs. Just then the hunters came up; they had taken care to dismount, all except two most ungentlemanly fellows, who leaped over the haw-haw, cutting up the turf sadly. The fox was now handed about to be seen, the hounds surrounding the hunters, and great delight was shown by all; but papa pitied the poor creature, and several times expressed his indignation, not against the intrusion into the garden, for that he could have borne with perfect good temper in the pursuit of any rational amusement, but against the general barbarity and cruelty of fox-hunters, whom he detests. He says that he never before saw a fox so closely pursued. Even after the body was taken away, the place smelt quite offensively.

The going to Woodbury both costs me something and has given me something. In the first place, two of my stuffed birds are thrown away, because they breed the moth (why this was not discovered before I cannot tell), my pasteboard steam-packet is burnt, to my great grief, and my two chalk figures are also destroyed. However, papa and mamma, to console me for the loss of my steam-packet, which cost me thirteen pennies, very kindly indeed gave me sixpence apiece, and papa offered me a shilling for every stuffed bird I should throw away, but I would not for a guinea.

I asked papa about colleges, and papa, perceiving from my question that I understood but little about it, kindly undertook to explain it to me. He first told me what a [26] corporation was, one person (for it may be one, and is then called a sole corporation) or a united body. He gave me an instance: Mr. Whittingham, Vicar of Potton, constitutes one; he possesses certain emoluments and certain endowments, but not as R. W., but as vicar. As for a corporation of several people, it is formed by a charter from the king; all the members act together, have a common seal, and make laws among themselves, provided they are not in contradiction to the laws of the land. If they buy an estate the deeds are signed by any they shall depute, and the common seal is put to it. A college is a sort of corporation. Some colleges have been endowed as much as eight hundred years ago, but whoever endowed them left for their support the revenues of certain estates, which thenceforth belong to the college, and decided the number of people to compose it—perhaps a master, or warden, or whatever he may be called, and eighteen or twenty Fellows, some of whom act as tutors. All these govern amongst themselves, and make laws, with the head or master as supreme, but not despotic. Besides these, a number of young men as students are admitted to receive instruction, but they are quite independent, and have nothing whatever to do with the government of the college.

The university itself is a much more complex affair. As each college is in itself a corporation, governed by its own laws, so all the colleges together form another grand corporation, which makes its own laws, has common revenues, and whose members occasionally meet to deliberate in Cambridge at a Senate, and in Oxford in Convocation.

The university is represented in Parliament, each by two members which are chosen among them, not for one college or another, but for the whole university. When a student has been three years in college, he is examined, and if he is found sufficiently advanced, he has his first degree conferred on him, Bachelor of Arts; but this is not by his [27] own college, but by the whole university. In three years more, commonly without examination, he is made Master of Arts; and on becoming B.A. he may be elected Fellow, and join in the government of the college. On marrying, though he still retains his degree, and may vote for the member to represent the university, he loses all influence in the government, as is the case with papa.

The university is governed by a nominal chancellor, but all acting power is in the vice-chancellor, who resides always at the place. The chancellor is commonly a nobleman. The Chancellor of Oxford University is now Lord Grenville;11 that of Cambridge, the Duke of Gloucester. He is a very silly man. Papa told us that one day, as he was riding out, he complained that the flies would get into his mouth, and he could not keep them out. The servant answered, “Perhaps your Royal Highness had better shut your mouth,” for he was in the habit of riding with the mouth wide open. Another time he bid his servant fetch his handkerchief from his room, but hesitated, and said, “I am pretty sure I locked the door, but I cannot remember whether I left the key on the inside.” These anecdotes made us laugh heartily.

The little girl whom I teach has been here every day for the last week, and came this evening for the last time, as I am going to-morrow, and she is too young to go as far as Woodbury.… Perhaps, however, as summer comes on and she is a little older, she may now and then walk over to Woodbury, for it is a pity that, when she seems to be getting on, I should give her up altogether. In the mean time, I have some thoughts of having a few little girls from Everton, if mamma and papa approve of it, which I believe they do.

Every evening of Sunday, after tea, mamma hears us say a hymn of Watts’, which we have previously learnt, each saying one verse. After this we say some parts of the [28] Catechism, mamma commenting as we go on in the simplest manner. I believe none of us are taught anything which is not thoroughly explained, and I am afraid this is too unusual. There is another very common practice, not followed with us, that of sending children very early to church. I think that before the age of eight they can rarely understand the Liturgy, yet they seem to be supposed to comprehend it even at three or four. If children are taught hymns and prayers before they can perceive anything of their meaning it is likely to produce a superstitious idea that they are to derive good from what they say, and will thereby please God, as the Roman Catholics do with their Latin prayers. But this is not my own idea; I learnt it from Whately,12 and must not pass it off as original.

This was the day we moved to our new house; there was the most indescribable bustle and confusion. Everything went, except a table and a few chairs in the drawing-room, that we might have our dinner. I was even obliged to part with my beloved desk, and had then nothing left to do except now and then to play at cup and ball.

This is my birthday. I am thirteen years old. When I came down into the library as soon as I was dressed, papa and mamma gave me a birthday present,13 a beautiful and most interesting book, Babbage’s “Economy of Manufactures,” which I have long wished for. It is a new edition, with corrections and improvements.

To-day’s newspaper announces that Antwerp has capitulated to the French, who are besieging it in behalf of the Belgians, and to whom they are to give it up. The commander of the fortress was General Chasse. The account of the elections was very entertaining; I read it as usual to the children. It always happens that the Reform candidates are cheered and [29] applauded, while the Tories are hissed and assailed with groans. The Tories have been behaving most shamefully, bribing and threatening the electors to the utmost degree; but they are generally unsuccessful.

After breakfast, when we were all sitting together in the library, the conversation turned on the late capitulation of the citadel of Antwerp. Papa made some promiscuous remarks on the war, of which I will put down what I remember. “The free navigation of the Scheldt has always been a great object with the other powers, the Dutch have as strenuously opposed it; but it is a free gift of Nature, and ought to belong equally to all the countries through which it runs…. The King of Holland is a thorough money-making merchant. He himself trades; he monopolizes at the expense of his subjects.”

Papa said also that during the war, when the farmers were rich and flourishing, and were amassing thousands upon thousands, they showed the most brutal indifference to the poor who were perishing around them; but that now their turn came, they were getting poorer and poorer, their rents were not paid, and they were eaten up with the poor rates.