The weather, which has, day after day and week after week, been most hideously abominable, this day came to such a tremendous hurricane that the whole valley could be compared to nothing but the very rage of battle. Keyhaven is no longer a village, but a sea. […] What a scene! Shutters, doors, and pails afloat; birds killed while diving and washed up by the tide; and, in short, the best representation I have yet seen of a second deluge. My dear children, instead of being alarmed or ill, were amused with the scramble; and I by way of aping Nero (who fiddled while Rome was burning) sat at my old humstrum, and boggled through a given number of Bach’s fugues.