Towards noon the weather became boisterous, and threatened a regular miserable, wet-blowing evening; so my musical friend Langstaff and I resolved to be a match for St. Swithin; and, as every horse and wheel was in requisition for Southampton races, and we could not find a boat, we hired old Sadler's lobster cart, the value of which, horse and all, was about 4l., and toddled into Lymington to the high diversion of ourselves and petrifaction of all the staring dandies, and repaired to old Klitz, the Clementi of the place. There Langstaff joined in a trio while I went foraging, and it then came on a determined wet night, for which we were well armed; as we brought off a fiddle, a tuning hammer, and all the music we could borrow, and sat in with a good fire, for a thorough batch of such noise that neither the wind nor the rain was thought of.