Well! but if you insist on not doffing your cuirass, you may find an opportunity of wearing it.  The storm thickens.  The city of London are ready to hoist their standard; treason is the bon-ton at that end of the town; seditious papers pasted up at every corner:  nay, my neighbourhood is not unfashionable; we have had them at Brentford and Kingston.  The Peace is the cry; but to make weight, they throw in all the abusive ingredients they can collect.  They talk of your friend the Duke of Devonshire’s resigning; and, for the Duke of Newcastle, it puts him so much in mind of the end of Queen Anne’s time, that I believe he hopes to be minister again for another forty years.

In the mean time. there are but dark news from the Havannah; the Gazette, who would not fib for the world, says, we have lost but four officers; the World, who is not quite so scrupulous, says, our loss is heavy.  But whit shocking notice to those who have Harry Conways there!  The Gazette breaks off with saying, that they were to storm the next day!  Upon the whole, it is regarded as a preparative to worse news.

Our next monarch was christened last night, George Augustus Frederick; the Princess, the Duke of Cumberland, and the Duke of Mecklenburgh, sponsors,; the ceremony performed by the Bishop of London.  The Queen’s bed, magnificent, and they say in taste, was placed in the great drawing-room:  though she is not to see company in form, yet it looks as if they had intended people should have been there, as all who presented themselves were admitted, which were very few, for it had not been notified; I suppose to prevent too great a crowd:  all I have heard named, besides those in waiting, were the Duchess of Queensbury, Lady Dalkeith, Mrs. Grenville, and about four more ladies.

My Lady Ailesbury is abominable:  she settled a party to come hither, and Put it off a month; and now she has been here and seen my cabinet, she ought to tell you what good reason I had not to stir.  If she has not told you that it is the finest, the prettiest, the newest and the oldest thing in the world, I will not go to Park-place on the 20th, as I have promised.  Oh! but tremble you may for me, though you will not for yourself—­all my glories were on the point of vanishing last night in a flame!  The chimney of the new gallery, which chimney is full of deal-boards, and which gallery is full of shavings was on fire at eight o’clock.  Harry had quarrelled with the other servants, and would not sit in the kitchen; and to keep up his anger, had lighted a vast fire in the servants’ hall, which is under the gallery.  The chimney took fire; and if Margaret had not smelt it with the first nose that ever a servant had, a quarter of an hour had set us in a blaze.  I hope you are frightened out of your senses for me:  if you are not, I will never live in a panic for three or four years for you again.