It froze hard last night; . . . The contents of an 

 English June are hay and ice, orange-flowers and rheuma- 

 tisms. 



— Horace Walpole to Agnes and Mart Beret, Straw- 

 berry Hill, June 14, 1791. 



Though my lawn is burnt and my peas and beans and 

 strawberries scorched, I will bear it with patience till the 

 harvest is got in. 



— Horace Walpole to the Honorable H. S. Conwat, 

 Strawberry Hill, July 17, 1793. 



I am determined never to cut my grass again till Octo- 

 ber, the only month whose honour one can trust; June 

 always ruins one in hay and coals; I crouch every evening 

 over the fire. 



— ^Horace Walpole to the Countess of Upper Ossoet, 

 Strawberry HiU, July 1, 1789. 



