AT can one say to these things? if it had been he power of lawyers to interpret into common e, statutes made by old monks,or monk-directed women, we might have hoped for a more faable answer to our queries; as it is I fear they have done more hurt than good: all I know is, that I should rejoice poor T. had some place st the sole of his foot in; and I flatter myself will never omit any thing in your power to port his little interest, among a people, with m you first raised it. I would gladly know the of your audit, for I would be at Cambridge hat time if I could. Mr. Walpole has taken use in Windsor, and I see him usually once a k; but I think that will hardly detain me bel the time I proposed to myself. He is at pre-gone to town, to perform the disagreeable task resenting and introducing about a young Flocine, the Marquis Rinuccini, who comes remended to him. The Duket is here at his ge with three women, and three Aid-de-camps;

See Walpole's Letters to Mann, vol. ii. p. 177, Letter v.-Ed.

ase of his posterity; and that is the last page s history. Have you seen Hogarth's* print ord Lovat? it is admirable.

can not help thinking if I had been with you, ould have represented the horror of the thing uch a light, as that you should never have bee a prey to Mr. Davie. I know that he'll get up in a corner some day and pick your bones, John will find nothing of you, but such a little o, as a cat that is a good mouser leaves; the and the tail piled together. My concern for produced a vision, not such a one as you read he Spectators, but actually in a dream. I ight I was in t'other world and confined in a e apartment much like a cellar, enlightened by rush candle that burned blue, on each side of sate (for my sins) Mr. Davie, and my friend Ashton,+ they bowed continually and smiled ny face, and while one filled me out very bitter ,the other sweetened it with brown sugar: all ether it much resembled Syrup of Buckthorn;