he painted Wilkes and faction, and, with very little truth, denied the charge of menaces to officers.  At that moment, General A’Court(497) walked up the House —­think what an impression such an incident must make, when passions, hopes, and fears, were all afloat—­think, too, how your brother and I, had we been ungenerous, could have added to these sensations!  There was a man not so delicate.  Colonel Barr`e rose—­and this attended with a striking circumstance; Sir Edward Deering, one of our noisy fools, called out, “Mr. Barr`e,"(498) The latter seized the thought with admirable quickness, and said to the Speaker, who, in pointing to him, had called him Colonel, “I beg your pardon, Sir, you have pointed to me by a title I have no right to,” and then made a very artful and pathetic speech on his own services and dismission; with nothing bad but an awkward attempt towards an excuse to Mr. Pitt for his former behaviour.  Lord North, who will not lose his bellow, though he may lose his place, endeavoured to roar up the courage of his comrades, but it would not do—­the House grew tired, and we again divided at seven for adjournment; some of our people were gone, and we remained but 184, they 208; however, you will allow our affairs are mended, when we say, but 184.  We then came away, and left the ministers to satisfy Wood, Webb, and themselves, as well as they could.  It was eight in the morning before I was in bed; and considering that this is no very short letter, Mr. Pitt bore the fatigue with his usual spirit(499)—­and even old Onslow, the late Speaker, was sitting up, anxious for the event.

On Friday we are to have the great question, which would prevent my writing; and to-morrow I dine with Guerchy, at the Duke of Grafton’s, besides twenty other engagements.  To-day I have shut myself up; for with writing this, and taking notes yesterday all day, and all night, I have not an eye left to see out of—­nay, for once in my life, I shall go to bed at ten o’clock.

I am glad to be able to contradict two or three passages in my last letter.  The Prince and Princess of Brunswick are safely landed, though they were in extreme danger.  The Duc de Pecquigny had not only been put in arrest late on the Sunday night, which I did not know, but has retrieved his honour.  Monsieur de Guerchy sent him away, and at Dover Virette found him, and whispered him to steal from D’Allonville(500) and fight.  The Duc first begged his pardon, owned himself in the wrong, and then fought him, and was wounded, though slightly, in four places in the arm; and both are returned to London with their honours as white as snow.

Sir Jacob Downing(501) is dead, and has left every shilling to his wife; id est, not sixpence to my Lord Holland;(502) a mishap which, being followed by a minority of 197, will not make a pleasant week to him.