30 September 1771 – 6 October 1771

I went on to Salisbury.

I preached at Whitchurch; Thursday, 3, at Winchester. I now found time to take a view of the cathedral. Here the sight of that bad Cardinal's tomb, whom the sculptor has placed in a posture of prayer, brought to my mind those fine lines of Shakespeare, which he put into the mouth of King Henry the Sixth: Lord Cardinal, If thou hast any Hope of heaven's grace, Give us a sign. He dies, and makes no sign. On Thursday and Friday evening I preached at Portsmouth Common.

I set out at two. About ten some of our London friends met me at Cobbam, with whom I took a walk in the neighboring gardens, inexpressibly pleasant through the variety of hills and dales and the admirable contrivance of the whole. And now, after spending his life in bringing it to perfection, the grey-headed owner advertises it to be sold! Is there anything under the sun that can satisfy a spirit made for God?