For his another manner with the printer, I am impatient to see how the charge will lie against Matthew Jenour, the publisher of the Advertiser, who, without having the fear of God before his eyes, has forcibly, violently, and maliciously, with an offensive weapon called a hearsay, and against the peace of our sovereign Lord the King, wickedly and traitorously assaulted the head of George Townshend, general, and accused it of having an opinion, and him the said George Townshend, has slanderously and of malice prepense believed to be a great general; in short, to make Townshend easy, I wish, as he has no more contributed to the loss of Quebec than he did to the conquest of it, that he was to be sent to sign this capitulation too.

There is a delightful little French book come out, called “Tant Mieux pour elle.”  It is called Cr`ebillon’s, and I should think was so.  I only borrowed it, and cannot get one; tant pis pour vous.  By the way, I am not sure you did not mention it to me; somebody did.

Have you heard that Miss Pitt has dismissed Lord Buckingham?  Tant mieux pour lui.  She damns her eyes that she will marry some captain—­tant mieux pour elle.  I think the forlorn earl should match with Miss Ariadne Drury; and by the time my Lord Halifax has had as many more children and sentiments by and for Miss Falkner, as he can contrive to have. probably Miss Pitt may be ready to be taken into keeping.  Good night!

P. S. The Prince of Wales has been in the greatest anxiety for Lord Bute; to whom he professed to Duncombe, and Middleton, he has the greatest obligations; and when they pronounced their patient out of danger, his Royal Highness gave to each of them a gold modal of himself, as a mark of his sense of their care and attention.

(78) Now first printed.

Letter 31 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.  Strawberry Hill, June 28, 1760. (page 72)

The devil is in people for fidgetting about!  They can neither be quiet in their own houses, nor let others be at peace in theirs!  Have not they enough of one another in winter, but they must cuddle in summer too?  For your part, you are a very priest:  the moment one repents, you are for turning it to account.  I wish you was in camp—­never will I pity you again.  How did you complain when you was in Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, and I don’t know where, that you could never enjoy Park-place!  Now you have a whole summer to yourself, and you are as junkettaceous as my Lady Northumberland.  Pray, what horse-race do you go to next?  For my part, I can’t afford to lead such a life:  I have Conway-papers to sort; I have lives of the painters to write; I have my prints to paste, my house to build, and every thing in the world to tell posterity.  How am I to find time for all this?  I am past forty, and may ’not have above as many more to live; and here I am to go here and to go there—­well, I will meet you at Chaffont on Thursday; but I positively will stay but one night.  I have settled with our brother that we will be at Oxford on the 13th of July, as Lord Beauchamp is only loose from the 12th to the 20th.  I will be at Park-place on the 12th, and we will go together the next day.  If this is too early for you, we may put it off to the 15th:  determine by Thursday, and one of us will write to Lord Hertford.