I do assure you that it is a monstrous oppression of spirits which I feel, and which I would not feel for an hour if I had nobody’s happiness to think of but my own, which would be much more secured by a total renunciation of Parliament, Ministers, and Boroughs than by pursuing the emoluments attached to those connections.  However, as it is the last time that I shall ever have anything to do of this kind, I will endeavour to keep up my spirits as well as I can; but I must declare to you that it is an undertaking that is most grievous to me, that I am ashamed of, and that neither the established custom of the country [n]or the nature of our Government does by any means reconcile to me.

I have dinners of one sort or other till Tuesday, and then I purpose to set out for London, unless some unforeseen event prevents me.  Horry Walpole has a project of coming into this part of the world the end of this week, and, if he does, of coming to me on Saturday.  I shall be glad to converse with anybody whose ideas are more intelligible than those of the persons I am now with.  But I do not depend much upon seeing him.

The weather is very fine, and Matson in as great beauty as a place can be in, but the beauties of it make very little impression upon me.  In short, there is nothing in this eccentric situation in which I am now that can afford me the least pleasure, and everything I love to see in the world is at a distance from me.  All I do is so par maniere d’acquit, et de si mauvaise grace, that I am surprised at the civility with which I am treated.

I am in daily hopes of hearing from you.  I am sorry that the children are to be left behind; that is, that their health, which is a valuable consideration, makes it prudential.  I shall be happy when I see them again, but it is not in my power to fix the time any more than the means of my happiness. . . .

Storer has little to do than to sing, Se caro sei, and to write to me, and therefore pray make him write.  Richard the Third is to be acted here to-night.  I will go and see an act of it, pour me desennuyer.

(1774,) Aug. 13, Saturday, Matson.—­As you are one of the first persons who occupies my thoughts when I awake, so it shall be a rule with me hereafter, when I am to write to you, to make that my first business, and not defer, as I have these two last posts, writing till the evening, when it is more probable, at least in this place, to suffer some interruption.  This looks like an apology for what I am sure needs none; it requires much more, that I seem to have established it as a rule to trouble you so often.  I have not here the shallow pretence of telling you some little occurrence[s] which can hardly be interesting in the Parish of St. James’s, but when they are confined to this spot.  I can have no reason for pestering you with them, but par un esprit de bavardise, ou pour me rappeler plus souvent a votre souvenir; ce que votre amitie a rendu pour moi tres inutile.