The Sussex Diarists.
sizes, pigs, cows, cocks and hens, horses, trees, tables, bells, barrows, carts, books, candles and candlesticks, and even neckties and shirts, figure on the margin of the journal, and the likenesses of "Nanny West" and "Mary Slater" when he paid them their wages—all these and numerous other objects to which reference is made in the journal are limned with a tolerably faithful and skilful hand. One of the most ambitious attempts at art is a sketch of his own residence at Cuckfield, Ockenden House, which, by-the-bye, still stands —whether in its integrity or not we cannot say—and was, up to the last two or three years, occupied by a member of the Burrell family. Another pretentious flight, and with a touch of humour in it, is that of a barrel of liquor on its stollage and with a vessel below the tap ready to receive the contents. This is in illustration of the Latin entry: " Nov. Pandoxavi." A fishing-net, with the captured fish, and two hind-wheels of the family coach, " made by Juniper," and the window on which the first window-tax—a most objectionable tax then just introduced—was paid, also, find a place in this most original of journals.
Two of the most curious of the illustrations, and which Mr. Timothy Burrell could scarcely have intended for the public eye, accompany the following entries:—"Forapayrof fine scarlet stockings for my girle, 3s." "I bought of a Scotchman a payr of pink scarlet stockings for my girle." To each of these entries is attached a representation of a very shapely foot and leg, which we may presume to be that of Miss Burrell, the draughtsman's only daughter—"my girle;" the limb being carried to a little above the garter-line and the garter itself made a very conspicuous object. The Scotch pair of stockings'is distinguished by the tartan, very neatly drawn.
Mr. Burrell continued this practice of illustrating his journal up to the very last. Only a fortnight before his death an entry of a hog which was shut up to fatten is accompanied by a drawing of the animal, but which, says Mr. Blencowe,