Cloudy morning. Had a visit from Mr Bancroft Davis who is in his return from the continent, home. Whilst he was talking with me come in a parsee from Bombay, Mr Manockjee Cursejee. I had already met with him and his two daughters without an idea of ever making his acquaintance. He proved a gentleman of much information respecting both Europe and America, and I was glad to make his acquaintance. At two I started with Mrs Adams by the North Weston Road to visit Hatfield House, the seat of the Marquis of Salsbury. It is about thirty miles off, about a third of a mile from the Station at Hatfield. It is said to be the most interesting edifice of its kind left in England. It dates from the reign of Edward III through the main portion was not build until that of James the 1st. It was here that Elizabeth resided in the time of Mary. It ultimately became the property of Sir Robert Cecil, the youngest son of Lord Bunghley, and has remained in the Salisbury family ever since. Charles the 1st was imprisoned here for a time. So that the historical associations are interesting. The structure is of brick, and is without architectural beauty. It occupies three sides of a quadrangle with a court yard and gates in front. The interesting part is the interior arrangement and the old portraits which bring up with much distinctness an idea of the domestic state of three centuries ago. The hall and chapel, the banqueting and reception rooms have been perfectly restored by the present owner, who was in a measure compelled to do it by a fire that occurred in 1835 and partially destroyed the left wing. In this fire his mother lost her life. But the great beauty of the place is in the quaintness of the grounds. Though not to compare in picturesque and sylvan effects with Stoke, there is an mumling notion of antique State that fascinates the attention. At first the clouds threatened, but it cleared away at last, and the rays of the sun gave the finishing touch to the scene— I really enjoyed this excursion. We came back to London at half past six, so that our dinner did not take place until eight, In the evening I went to a reception at Mr Gladstone’s. Not many acquaintances. Some talk with Mr Villiers, who describes the distress in Lancashire as much on the increase.137