You will pity my distress when I tell you that Lord Waldegrave has got the smallpox, and a bad sort.  This day se’nnight, in the evening, I met him at Arthur’s:  he complained to me of the headache, and a sickness in the stomach.  I said, “My dear lord, why don’t you go home, and take James’s powder you will be well in the morning.”  He thanked me, said he was glad I had put him in mind of it, and he would take my advice.  I sent in the morning; my niece said he had taken the powder, and that James thought he had no fever, but that she found him very low.  As he had no fever, I had no apprehension.  At eight o’clock on Friday night, I was told abruptly at Arthur’s, that Lord Waldegrave had the small-pox.  I was excessively shocked, not knowing if the powder was good or bad for it.  I went instantly to the house; at the door I was met by a servant of Lady Ailesbury, sent to tell me that Mr. Conway was arrived.  These two opposite strokes of terror and joy overcame me so much, that when I got to Mr. Conway’s I could not speak to him, but burst into a flood of tears.  The next morning, Lord Waldegrave hearing I was there, desired to speak to me alone.  I should tell you, that the moment he knew it was the small-pox, he signed his will.  This has been the unvaried tenor of his behaviour, doing just what is wise and necessary, and nothing more.  He told me, he knew how great the chance was against his living through that distemper at his age.  That, to be sure, he should like to have lived a few years longer; but if he did not, he should submit patiently.  That all he desired was, that if he should fail, we would do our utmost to comfort his wife, who, he feared was breeding, and who, he added, was the best woman in the world.  I told him he could not doubt our attention to her, but that at present all our attention was fixed on him.  That the great difference between having the small-pox young, or more advanced in years, consisted in the fear of the latter; but that as I had so often heard him say, and now saw, that he had none of those fears, the danger of age was considerably lessened.  Dr. Wilmot says, that if any thing saves him, it will be his tranquillity.  To my comfort I am told, that James’s powder has probably been a material ingredient towards his recovery.  In the mean time, the universal anxiety about him is incredible.  Dr. Barnard, the master of Eton, who is in town for the holidays, says, that, from his situation, he is naturally invited to houses of all ranks and parties, and that the concern is general in all.  I cannot say so much of my lord, and not do a little justice to my niece too.  Her tenderness, fondness, attention, and courage are surprising.  She has no fears to become her, nor heroism for parade.  I could not help saying to her, “There never was a nurse of your age had such attention.”  She replied, “There never was a nurse of my age had such an object.”  It is this astonishes one, to see so much beauty sincerely devoted to a man so unlovely in his person; but if Adonis was sick, she could not stir seldomer out of his bedchamber.  The physicians seem to have little hopes, but, as their arguments are not near so strong as their alarms, I own I do not give it up, and yet I look on it in a very dangerous light.