London, 13th June.

Often as I had heard Ranelagh spoken of, I had yet formed only an
imperfect idea of it. I supposed it to be a garden somewhat
different from that of Vauxhall; but, in fact, I hardly knew what I
thought of it. Yesterday evening I took a walk in order to visit
this famous place of amusement; but I missed my way and got to
Chelsea; where I met a man with a wheel-barrow, who not only very
civilly showed me the right road, but also conversed with me the
whole of the distance which we walked together. And finding, upon
enquiry, that I was a subject of the King of Prussia, he desired me,
with much eagerness, to relate to him some anecdotes concerning that
mighty monarch. At length I arrived at Ranelagh; and having paid my
half-crown on entrance, I soon enquired for the garden door, and it
was readily shown to me; when, to my infinite astonishment, I found
myself in a poor, mean-looking, and ill-lighted garden, where I met
but few people. I had not been here long before I was accosted by a
young lady, who also was walking there, and who, without ceremony,
offered me her arm, asking me why I walked thus solitarily? I now
concluded, this could not possibly be the splendid, much-boasted
Ranelagh; and so, seeing not far from me a number of people entering
a door, I followed them, in hopes either to get out again, or to
vary the scene.

But it is impossible to describe, or indeed to conceive, the effect
it had on me, when, coming out of the gloom of the garden, I
suddenly entered a round building, illuminated by many hundred
lamps; the splendour and beauty of which surpassed everything of the
kind I had ever seen before. Everything seemed here to be round;
above, there was a gallery divided into boxes; and in one part of it