Next morning, Thursday, March 21, we set out in a post-chaise to pursue
our ramble. It was a delightful day, and we rode through Blenheim
park. When I looked at the magnificent bridge built by John Duke of
Marlborough, over a small rivulet, and recollected the Epigram made upon
it--
'The lofty arch his high ambition shows,
The stream, an emblem of his bounty flows:'
and saw that now, by the genius of Brown, a magnificent body of water
was collected, I said, 'They have DROWNED the Epigram.' I observed to
him, while in the midst of the noble scene around us, 'You and I,
Sir, have, I think, seen together the extremes of what can be seen in
Britain:--the wild rough island of Mull, and Blenheim park.'
We dined at an excellent inn at Chapel-house, where he expatiated on
the felicity of England in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the
French for not having, in any perfection, the tavern life. 'There is no
private house, (said he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so
well, as at a capital tavern.
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