I have received two dear letters from you of the 18th and 25th and though you do not accuse me, but say a thousand kind things to me in the most agreeable manner, I allow my ancientry, and that I am an old, jealous, and peevish husband, and quarrel with you if I do not receive a letter exactly at the moment I please to expect one.  You talk of mine; but, if you knew how I like Yours, you would not wonder that I am impatient, and even unreasonable in my demands.  However, though I own my faults, I do not mean to correct them.  I have such pleasure in your letters (I am sorry I am here forced to speak in the singular number,’which by the way is an Irishism,) that I will be cross if you do not write to me perpetually.  The quintessence of your last but one was, in telling me you are better — how fervently do I wish to receive such accounts every post.  But who can mend but old I, in such detestable weather?—­not one hot day; and, if a morning shines, the evening closes with a heavy shower.

Of French news I can give you no fresher or more authentic account, than you can collect in general from the newspapers; but my present visitants and every body else confirm the veracity of Paris being in that anarchy that speaks the populace domineering in the most cruel and savage manner, and which a servile multitude broken loose calls liberty; and which in all probability will end, when their Massaniello-like reign is over, in their being more abject slaves than ever, and chiefly by the crime of their `Etats, who, had they acted with temper and prudence, might have obtained from their poor and undesigning King a good and permanent constitution.  Who may prove their tyrant, if reviving loyalty does not in a new frenzy force him to be so, it is impossible to foresee; but much may happen first.  The rage seems to gain the provinces, and threatens to exhibit the horrors of those times when the peasants massacred the gentlemen.  Thus you see I can only conjecture, which is not sending you news; and my intelligence reaches me by so many rebounds, that you must not depend on any thing I can tell you.  I repeat, because I hear; but draw on you for no credit.  Having experienced last winter, in suporaddition to a long life of experience, that in Berkeley Square I could not trust to a single report from Kew, can I swallow implicitly at Twickenham the distorted information that comes from Paris through the medium of London?

You asked me in one of your letters who La Chalotais was.  I answer, premier pr`esident or avocat-g`en`eral, I forget which, of the Parliament of Bretagne; a great, able, honest, and most virtuous man, who opposed the Jesuits and the tyranny of the Duc d’Aiguillon; but he was as indiscreet as he was good.  Calonne was his friend and confident; to whom the imprudent patriot trusted, by letter, his farther plan of opposition and designs.  The wretch pretended to have business with, or to be sent for by, the Duc de la Vrilli`ere,