This letter, like an embarkation, will not set out till it has gotten its complement; but I begin it, as I have just received your second letter.  I wrote to you two days ago, and did not mean to complain; for you certainly cannot have variety of matter in your sequestered isle:  and since you do not disdain trifling news, this good town, that furnishes nothing else, at least produces weeds, which shoot up in spite of the Scotch thistles, that have choked all good fruits.  I do not know what Lady Craven designs to do with her play; I hope, act it only in private; for her other was murdered, and the audience did not exert the least gallantry to so pretty an authoress, though she gave them so fair an opportunity.  For my own play, I was going to publish it in my own defence, as a spurious edition was advertised here, besides one in Ireland.  My advertisement has overlaid the former for the present, and that tempts me to suppress mine, as I have a thorough aversion to its appearance.  Still, I think I shall produce it in the dead of summer, that it may be forgotten by winter; for I could not bear having it the subject of conversation in a full town.  It is printed; so I can let it steal out in the midst of the first event that engrosses the public; and as it is not quite a novelty, I have no fear but it will be stillborn, if it is twin with any babe that squalls and makes much noise.

At the same time with yours I received a letter from another cousin at Paris, who tells me Necker is on the verge, and in the postscript says, he has actually resigned.  I heard so a few days ago; but this is a full confirmation.  Do you remember a conversation at your house, at supper, in which a friend of yours spoke, very unfavourably of Necker, and seemed to wish his fall?  In my own opinion they are much in the wrong.  It is true, Necker laboured with all his shoulders to restore their finances; yet I am persuaded that his attention to that great object made him clog all their military operations.  They will pay dearer for money; but money they will have:  nor is it so dear to them, for, when they have gotten it, they have only not to pay.  A Monsieur Joly de Fleury is comptroller-general.  I know nothing of him; but as they change so often, some able man will prove minister at last—­and there they will have the advantage again.

Lord Cornwallis’s courier, Mr. Broderick, is not yet arrived; so you are a little precipitate in thinking America so much nearer to be subdued, which you have often swallowed up as if you were a minister; and yet, methinks, that era has been so frequently put off, that I wonder you are not cured of being sanguine—­or rather, of believing the magnificent lies that every trifling advantage gives birth to.  If a quarter of the Americans had joined the Royalists, that have been said to join, all the colonies would not hold them.  But, at least, they have been like the trick of kings and queens at cards; where one Of two goes back every turn to fetch another.  However, this Is only for conversation for the moment.  With such aversion to disputation, I have no zeal for making converts to my own opinions not even on points that touch me nearer.