at Lansdowne House.

[To-night]

,

party

at Lady Charlotte Greville's

[1]

—deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted— nothing acquired—talking without ideas:—if any thing like

thought

in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho!—and in this way half London pass what is called life. To-morrow there is Lady Heathcote's—shall I go? yes—to punish myself for not having a pursuit.

Let me see—what did I see? The