Mr. B. and his lady are resolved to accompany me in their coach, till your chariot meets me, if you will be pleased to permit it so to do; and even set me down at your gate, if it did not; but he vows, that he will neither alight at your house, nor let his lady.  But I say, that this is a misplaced resentment, because I ought to think it a favour, that you have indulged me so much as you have done.  And yet even this is likewise a favour on their side, to me, because it is an instance of their fondness for your unworthy daughter’s company.

Mrs. B. is, if possible, more lovely since her lying-in than before.  She has so much delight in her nursery, that I fear it will take her off from her pen, which will be a great loss to all whom she used to oblige with her correspondence.  Indeed this new object of her care is a charming child; and she is exceedingly pleased with her nurse;—­for she is not permitted, as she very much desired, to suckle it herself.

She makes a great proficiency in the French and Italian languages; and well she may; for she has the best schoolmaster in the world, and one whom she loves better than any lady ever loved a tutor.  He is lofty, and will not be disputed with; but I never saw a more polite and tender husband, for all that.

We had a splendid christening, exceedingly well ordered, and every body was delighted at it.  The quality gossips went away but on Tuesday; and my Lady Davers took leave of her charming sister with all the blessings, and all the kindness, and affectionate fondness, that could be expressed.

Mr. Andrews, that worthy old man, came up to see his grandson, yesterday.  You would never have forgotten the good man’s behaviour (had you seen it), to his daughter, and to the charming child; I wish I could describe it to you; but I am apt to think Mrs. B. will notice it to Lady Davers; and if she enters into the description of it while I stay, I will beg a copy of it, to bring down with me; because I know you were pleased with the sensible, plain, good man, and his ways, when at the Hall in your neighbourhood.

The child is named William, and I should have told you; but I write without any manner of connection, just as things come uppermost:  but don’t, my dear papa, construe this, too, as an instance of disrespect.

I see but one thing that can possibly happen to disturb the felicity of this charming couple; and that I will mention, in confidence.  Mr. B. and Mrs. B. and myself were at the masquerade, before she lay-in:  there was a lady greatly taken with Mr. B. She was in a nun’s habit, and followed him wherever he went; and Mr. Turner, a gentleman of one of the inns of court, who visits Mr. B. and is an old acquaintance of his, tells me, by-the bye, that the lady took an opportunity to unmask to Mr. B. Mr. Turner has since found she is the young Countess Dowager of——­, a fine lady; but not the most reserved in her conduct of late, since her widowhood.  And he has since discovered, as he says, that a letter or two, if not more, have passed between Mr. B. and that lady.