Sunday evening. Jany 15th1
My dear Father,
I have not stopped the Photographic paper but it has stopped itself owing to my subscription having expired. The wind has been getting up again a little today. I went to Church at Westminster Abbey and heard a Sermon on St Patrick and his Celtic Saints which was to prove that Ireland would have turned out very well if it had in old times has dioceses and parishes and that it owes its Roman Catholicity to the English. I think the object of the sermon was to shew that we ought not to abolish the Irish Church as the preacher makes out that it is much the same thing as the primitive Church of Ireland. They are building a pretty satisfactory Gothic fountain in what appears to be a private garden close to St Margarets Church Westminster. It was too dark when I returned to see much of the foreign office 2 which seems to be getting on pretty fast. It is much too hot now for the time of year. A young Lady Miss Philpotts [sic] a grandaughter of the Bishop of Exeter 3 who had been at the hall which I went to at Torquay died in a most melancholy manner the other day after she had been singing at a party at Torquay as you may perhaps have seen in the paper. I have not heard what was the matter with her. Mallock4 knows them very well. Our streets have now become passable.
Your affect son
Charles.
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