The visit made lately to Berlin was, I dare say, neither a friendly nor an inoffensive one.  The Austrians always leave behind them pretty lasting monuments of their visits, or rather visitations:  not so much, I believe, from their thirst of glory, as from their hunger of prey.

This winter, I take for granted, must produce a piece of some kind or another; a bad one for us, no doubt, and yet perhaps better than we should get the year after.  I suppose the King of Prussia is negotiating with France, and endeavoring by those means to get out of the scrape with the loss only of Silesia, and perhaps Halberstadt, by way of indemnification to Saxony; and, considering all circumstances, he would be well off upon those terms.  But then how is Sweden to be satisfied?  Will the Russians restore Memel?  Will France have been at all this expense ‘gratis’?  Must there be no acquisition for them in Flanders?  I dare say they have stipulated something of that sort for themselves, by the additional and secret treaty, which I know they made, last May, with the Queen of Hungary.  Must we give up whatever the French please to desire in America, besides the cession of Minorca in perpetuity?  I fear we must, or else raise twelve millions more next year, to as little purpose as we did this, and have consequently a worse peace afterward.  I turn my eyes away, as much as I can, from this miserable prospect; but, as a citizen and member of society, it recurs to my imagination, notwithstanding all my endeavors to banish it from my thoughts.  I can do myself nor my country no good; but I feel the wretched situation of both; the state of the latter makes me better bear that of the former; and, when I am called away from my station here, I shall think it rather (as Cicero says of Crassus) ‘mors donata quam vita erepta’.

I have often desired, but in vain, the favor of being admitted into your private apartment at, Hamburg, and of being informed of your private life there.  Your mornings, I hope and believe, are employed in business; but give me an account of the remainder of the day, which I suppose is, and ought to be, appropriated to amusements and pleasures.  In what houses are you domestic?  Who are so in yours?  In short, let me in, and do not be denied to me.

Here I am, as usual, seeing few people, and hearing fewer; drinking the waters regularly to a minute, and am something the better for them.  I read a great deal, and vary occasionally my dead company.  I converse with grave folios in the morning, while my head is clearest and my attention strongest:  I take up less severe quartos after dinner; and at night I choose the mixed company and amusing chit-chat of octavos and duodecimos.  ‘Ye tire parti de tout ce gue je puis’; that is my philosophy; and I mitigate, as much as I can, my physical ills by diverting my attention to other objects.

Here is a report that Admiral Holborne’s fleet is destroyed, in a manner, by a storm:  I hope it is not true, in the full extent of the report; but I believe it has suffered.  This would fill up the measure of our misfortunes.  Adieu.