By some
means or other I stayed too long out, and so when I returned to
Richmond, I had forgot the name and the sign of the inn where I had
before stopped; it cost me no little trouble to find it again.
When at last I got back, I told the people what a sweet walk I had
had, and they then spoke much of a prospect from a neighbouring
hill, known by the name of Richmond Hill, which was the very same
hill from the top of which I had just been gazing at the houses in
the vale, the preceding evening. From this same kill, therefore, I
resolved the next morning to see the sun rise.
The landlady of this house was a notable one, and talked so much and
so loud to her servants, that I could not get to sleep till it was
pretty late. However, I was up next morning at three o'clock, and
was now particularly sensible of the great inconveniences they
sustain in England by their bad custom of rising so late, for as I
was the only one in this family who was up, I could not get out of
the house. This obliged me to spend three most irksome and heavy
hours till six o'clock; however, a servant at length opened the
door, and I rushed out to climb Richmond Hill. To my infinite
disappointment, within the space of an hour, the sky had become
overcast, and it was now so cloudy that I could not even see, nor of
course enjoy one half of the delightful prospect that lay before me.
On the top of this hill is an alley of chestnut trees, under which
here and there seats are placed. Behind the alley is a row of well-
built gentlemen's country seats. One does not wonder to see it thus
occupied; besides the pure air, the prospect exceeds everything else
of the kind in the world. I never saw a palace which, if I were the
owner of it, I would not give for any of the houses I now saw on
Richmond Terrace.
The descent of the hill to the Thames is covered with verdure, the
Thames at the foot of it forms near a semicircle, in which it seems
to embrace woody plains, with meadows and country seats in its
bosom. On one side you see the town and its magnificent bridge, and
on the other a dark wood.
At a distance you could perceive, peeping out among the meadows and
woods, sundry small villages, so that notwithstanding the dulness of
the weather, this prospect even now was one of the finest I had ever
seen. But what is the reason that yesterday evening my feelings
were far more acute and lively, the impressions made on me much
stronger, when from the vale I viewed the hill and fancied that
there was in it every thing that was delightful, than they are this
morning, when from the hill I overlooked the vale and knew pretty
exactly what it contained?
