in your next letters; for your two last were in so diminutive a character, that we were forced to employ all Mrs. Leneve's spectacles, besides an ancient family reading-glass, with which my grandfather used to begin the psalm, to discover what you said to us. Besides this, I have a piece of news for you: Sir Robert Walpole, when he was made Earl of Orford, left the ministry, and with it the palace in Downing-street; as numbers of people found out three years ago, who, not having your integrity, were quick in perceiving the change of his situation. Your letter was full as honest as you; for, though directed to Downing-street, it would not, as other letters would have done, address itself to the present possessor. Do but think if it had! The smallness of the hand would have immediately struck my Lord Sandys with the idea of a plot; for what he could not read at first sight, he would certainly have concluded must be cipher.

I march next week towards London, and have already begun to send my heavy artillery before me, consisting of half-a-dozen books and part of my linen: my light-horse, commanded by Patapan, follows this day se'nnight. A detachment of hussars surprised an old bitch fox yesterday morning, who had lost a leg in a former engagement; and then, having received advice of another litter being advanced as far as Darsingham, Lord Walpole commanded Captain Riley's horse, with a strong party of fox-hounds, to overtake them; but on the approach of our troops the enemy stole off, and are now encamped at Sechford common, whither we every hour expect orders to pursue them.

My dear Harry, this is all I have to tell you, and, to my great joy, which you must forgive me, is full as memorable as any part of the Flanders campaign. I do not desire to have you engaged in the least more glory than you have been. I should not love the remainder of you the least better for your having lost an arm or a leg, and have as full persuasion of your courage as if you had contributed to the slicing off twenty pair from French officers. Thank God, you have sense enough to content yourself without being a hero! though I don't quite forget your expedition a hussar-hunting the beginning of this campaign. Pray, no more of those jaunts. I don't know any body you would oblige with a present of such game: for my part, a fragment of the oldest hussar on earth should never have a place in my museum -they are not antique enough; and for a live one, I must tell you, I like my raccoon infinitely better.

Adieu! my dear Harry. I long to see you. You will easily believe the thought I have of being particularly well with you is a vast addition to my impatience, though you know it is nothing new to me to be overjoyed at your return.

33*

Yours ever.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Houghton, Oct. 6, 1744.

DOES Decency insist upon one's writing within certain periods, when one has nothing to say? because, if she does, she is the most formal, ceremonious personage I know. I shall not enter into a dispute with her, as my Lady Hervey did with the goddess of Indolence, or with the goddess of letter-writing, I forget which, in a long letter that she sent to the Duke of Bourbon; because I had rather write than have a dispute about it. Besides, I am not at all used to converse with hieroglyphic ladies. But, I do assure you, it is merely to avoid scolding that I set about this letter: I don't mean your scolding, for you are all goodness to me; but my own scolding of myself-a correction I stand in great awe of, and which I am sure never to escape as often as I am to blame. One can scold other people again, or smile and jog one's foot, and affect not to mind it; but those airs won't do with oneself; one always comes by the worst in a dispute with one's own conviction.

Admiral Matthews sent me down hither your great packet: I am charmed with your prudence, and with the good sense of your orders for the Neapolitan expedition; I won't say your good nature, which is excessive; for I think your tenderness of the little Queen' a little outree, especially as their apprehensions might have added great weight to your menaces. I would threaten like a corsair, though I would conquer with all the good-breeding of a Scipio. I most devoutly wish you success; you are sure of having me most happy with any honour you acquire. You have quite soared above all fear of Goldsworthy, and, I think, must appear of consequence to any ministry. I am much obliged to you for the medal, and like the design: I shall preserve it as part of your works.

I can't forgive what you say to me about the coffee-pot: one would really think that you looked upon me as an old woman that had left a legacy to be kept for her sake, and a curse to attend the parting with it. My dear child, is it treating me justly to enter into the detail of your reasons? was it even necessary to say, "I have changed your coffee-pot for some other plate?"

I have nothing to tell you but that I go to town next week, and will then write you all I hear. Adieu!

a The Queen of Naples,-Maria of Saxony, wife of Charles the Third, King of Naples, and subsequently, on the death of his elder brother, King of Spain. This alludes to the Austrian campaign in the Neapolitan territories, the attack on the town of Velletri, &c.-E.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Arlington Street, Oct. 19, 1744.

I HAVE received two or three letters from you since I wrote to you last, and all contribute to give me fears for your situation at Florence. How absurdly all the Queen's haughtinesses are dictated to her by her ministers, or by her own Austriacity! She lost all Silesia because she would not lose a small piece of it, and she is going to lose Tuscany for want of a neutrality, because she would not accept one for Naples, even after all prospect of conquering it was vanished. Every thing goes ill! the King of Sardinia beaten; and to-day we hear of Coni lost! You will see in the papers too, that the Victory, our finest ship, is lost, with Sir John Balchen and nine hundred men.a The expense alone of the ship is computed at above two hundred thousand pounds. We have nothing good but a flying report of a victory of Prince Charles over the Prussian, who, it is said, has lost ten thousand men, and both his legs by a cannon-ball. I have no notion of his losing them, but by breaking them in over-hurry to run away. However, it comes from a Jew, who had the first news of the passage of the Rhine. But, my dear child, how will this comfort me, if you are not to remain in peace at Florence! I tremble as I write ! Yesterday morning carried off those two old beldams, Sarah of Marlborough and the Countess Granville; now Uguccioni's epithalamium must be new-tricked out in titles, for my Lady Carteret is Countess! Poor Bistino! I wish my Lady Pomfret may leave off her translation of Froissart to English the eight hundred and forty heroics! When I know the particulars of old Marlborough's will, you shall.

My Lord Walpole has promised me a letter for young Gardiner; who, by the way, has pushed his fortune en vrai bátard, without being so, for it never was pretended that he was my brother's: he protests he is not; but the youth has profited of his mother's gallantries.

I have not seen Admiral Matthews yet, but I take him to be very mad. He walks in the Park with a cockade of three colours: the Duke desired a gentleman to ask him the meaning, and all the answer he would give was, "The Treaty of Worms! the Treaty of Worms!" I design to see him, thank him for my packet, and inquire after the

cases.

a The Victory, of a hundred and ten brass guns, was lost, between the 4th and 5th of October, near Alderney.-E.

This report proved to be without foundation.

c Mother of John, Lord Carteret, who succeeded her in the title.

d A Florentine, who had employed an abbé of his acquaintance to write an epithalamium on Lord Carteret's marriage, consisting of eight hundred and forty Latin lines. Sir H. Mann had given an account of the composition of this piece of literary flattery in one of his letters to Walpole.-D.

It is a most terrible loss for his parents, Lord Beauchamp's' death: if they were out of the question, one could not be sorry for such a mortification to the pride of old Somerset. He has written the most shocking letter imaginable to poor Lord Hertford, telling him that it is a judgment upon him for all his undutifulness, and that he must always look upon himself as the cause of his son's death. Lord Hertford is as good a man as lives, and has always been most unreasonably illused by that old tyrant. The title of Somerset will revert to Sir Edward Seymour, whose line has been most unjustly deprived of it from the first creation. The Protector when only Earl of Hertford, married a great heiress, and had a Lord Beauchamp, who was about twenty when his mother died. His father then married an Anne Stanhope, with whom he was in love, and not only procured an act of parliament to deprive Lord Beauchamp of his honours, and to settle the title of Somerset, which he was going to have, on the children of this second match, but took from him even his mother's fortune. From him descended Sir Edward Seymour, the Speaker, who, on King William's landing, when he said to him, "Sir Edward, I think you are of the Duke of Somerset's family?" replied, "No, Sir: he is of mine."

Lord Lincoln was married last Tuesday, and Lord Middlesex will be very soon. Have you heard the gentle manner of the French King's dismissing Madame de Chateauroux? In the very circle, the Bishop of Soissons' told her, that, as the scandal the King had given with her was public, his Majesty thought his repentance ought to be so too, and that he therefore forbade her the court; and then turning to the monarch, asked him if that was not his pleasure, who replied, Yes. They have taken away her pension too, and turned out even laundresses that she had recommended for the future Dauphiness. Apropos to the Chateauroux: there is a Hanoverian come over, who was so ingenuous as to tell Master Louis how like he is to M. Walmoden. You conceive that "nous autres souvereins nous n'aimons pas qu'on se méprenne aux gens:" we don't love that our Fitzroys should be scandalized with any mortal resemblance.

I must tell you a good piece of discretion of a Scotch soldier, whom Mr. Selwyn met on Bexley Heath walking back to the army. He had met with a single glove at Hingham, which had been left there last year in an inn by an officer now in Flanders: this the fellow was carrying in hopes of a little money; but, for fear he should lose the glove, wore it all the way.

a Only son of Algernon, Earl of Hertford, afterwards the last Duke of Somerset of that branch. [Lord Beauchamp was seized with the small-pox at Bologna, and, after an illness of four days, died on the 11th of September; on which day he had completed his nineteenth year.]

b Son of Fitzjames, Duke of Berwick. This Bishop of Soissons, on the King being given over at Metz, prevailed on him to part with his mistress, the Duchess de Chateauroux; but the King soon recalled her, and confined the bishop to his diocese.

c Son of King George II. by Madame Walmoden, created Countess of Yarmouth.

Thank you for General Braitwitz's deux potences. I hope that one of them at least will rid us of the Prussian. Adieu! my dear child: all my wishes are employed about Florence.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Arlington Street, Nov. 9, 1744.

I FIND I must not wait any longer for news, if I intend to keep up our correspondence. Nothing happens; nothing has since I wrote last, but Lord Middlesex's wedding; which was over above a week before it was known. I believe the bride told it then; for he and all his family are so silent, that they would never have mentioned it: she might have popped out a child, before a single Sackville would have been at the expense of a syllable to justify her.

Our old acquaintance, the Pomfrets, are not so reserved about their great matrimony: the new Lady Granville was at home the other night for the first time of her being mistress of the house. I was invited, for I am in much favour with them all, but found myself extremely déplacé: there was nothing but the Winchelseas and Baths, and the gleanings of a party stuffed out into a faction, some foreign ministers, and the whole blood of Fermor. My Lady Pomfret asked me if I corresponded still with the Grifona: "No," I said, " since I had been threatened with a regale of hams and Florence wine, I had dropped it." My Lady Granville said, "You was afraid of being thought interested."-"Yes," said the Queen-mother, with all the importance with which she used to blunder out pieces of heathen mythology, "I think it was very ministerial." Don't you think that word came in as awkwardly as I did into their room? The Minister is most gracious to me; he has returned my visit, which, you know, is never practised by that rank: I put it all down to my father's account, who is not likely to keep up the civility.

You will see the particulars of old Marlborough's will in the Evening Posts of this week: it is as extravagant as one should have expected; but I delight in her begging that no part of the Duke of Marlborough's life may be written in verse by Glover and Mallet, to whom she gives five hundred pounds apiece for writing it in prose. There is a great deal of humour in the thought: to be sure the spirit of the dowager Leonidas inspired her with it.

a General Braitwitz, commander of the Queen of Hungary's troops in Tuscany, speaking of the two powers, his mistress and the King of Sardinia, instead of saying "ces deux pouvoirs," said " ces deux potences."

b The Earl of Middlesex married Grace, daughter and sole heiress of Lord Shannon. On the death of his father in 1765, he succeeded, as second Duke of Dorset, and died without issue, in 1769.-E.

Glover, though in embarrassed circumstances at the time, renounced the legacy; Mallet accepted it, but never fulfilled the terms.-E.

d Glover wrote a dull heroic poem on the action of Leonidas at Thermopyla. [“Though far indeed from being a vivid or arresting picture of antiquity, Leonidas,"