Monday, July 13. — We all breakfasted — including Nannie — with the excellent and kind old Mr. Rogers, nobody being present except Campbell the poet, who returned two or three days ago from his Algerine expedition, of which, of course, he is now full. I need not say that the two hours we thus passed were extremely agreeable. The vast amount of Mr. Rogers's recollections, extending back through the best society for sixty years; his exquisite taste, expressed alike in his conversation, his books, his furniture, and his pictures; his excellent common-sense and sound judgment; and his sincere, gentle kindness, coming quietly, as it does, from the venerableness of his age, render him one of the most delightful men a stranger can see in London. He went over his whole house with us, showed us his pictures, curiosities, correspondence with distinguished men, etc. etc., and made the visit seem extremely short. Campbell was pleasant, a little over-nice both in his manner and choice of words and subjects, witty, even, sometimes; but, though full of fresh knowledge from Africa, by no means so interesting as Rogers.