days Selwyn, who went by the sobriquet of “Bosky,” had many friends—­not only among college boys, but in London society.  “You must judge by what you feel yourself,” wrote Walpole to General Conway, the soldier and statesman, on the occasion of a severe illness from which Selwyn suffered in 1741, “of what I feel for Selwyn’s recovery, with the addition of what I have suffered from post to post.  But as I find the whole town have had the same sentiments about him (though I am sure few so strong as myself), I will not repeat what you have heard so much.  I shall write to him to-night, though he knows, without my telling him, how very much I love him.  To you, my dear Harry, I am infinitely obliged for the three successive letters you wrote me about him, which gave me double pleasure, as they showed your attention for me at a time that you knew I must be so unhappy, and your friendship for him."* But then came an interval in Selwyn’s academic career—­if such it may be called—­since he was certainly in Paris, much in want of money, at the end of 1742 and the beginning of 1743.  It is probable that he had gone down from Oxford for some irregularity; he ultimately was obliged to leave the University for the same reason.  For though he re-entered his college in 1744 he only remained there until the following year, when he was sent down for an irreverent jest after dinner, having taken more to drink than was good for him.  His friends, especially Sir Charles Hanbury Williams and some in authority at Oxford also, thought that Selwyn was harshly treated.  Whether that were so or not this was the end of his University career.  It was not a promising beginning of a life, and for some years he was regarded as a good-natured spendthrift.  The death of his elder brother and father however in 1751 produced a sense of responsibility, but even before this date he had been endeavouring to regain his father’s goodwill.  “I don’t yet imagine,” wrote his friend, Sir William Maynard, shortly before the death of Colonel J. Selwyn, “you are quite established in his good opinion, and if his life is but spared one twelvemonth you may have an opportunity of convincing him you are in earnest in your promises of a more frugal way of life.”  As too often happens the son had not time in his father’s lifetime to regain his good opinion.  Certainly Selwyn made no attempt to give up pleasure, though he was bent on it no doubt with a more frugal mind.  He was a man of fashion and of pleasure, having his headquarters in London, paying visits now and again to great country houses as Trentham and Croome.  To Bath he went as one goes now to the Riviera.  In Paris too he delighted; when in the autumn of 1762 the Duke of Bedford was in France negotiating the treaty which is known in history as the Peace of Paris, it was Selwyn who accompanied the Duchess when she joined her husband.  “She sets out the day after to-morrow,” wrote Walpole on September 8th, “escorted to add gravity to the Embassy