street. Hitherto all goes prosperously with my bodily concerns; so that I have no pain worth mentioning, but that of being separated from my kind love, and not seeing five little faces, which form round her a group, which sums all delight — all which my heart can taste.

It is, indeed, a pleasure to think that I am writing what will give my dearest life pleasure, and help to make the hours of separation more easy and comfortable. It rains civilities upon me here, from various quarters; and, to my own sense of things, only renders my situation more unaccountable, not to say ridiculous. But no more of this,

"Who sees not Providence all kind and wise,

Alike in what it grants, and what denies!"

The Hoods are pretty well. The Captain and Mr. James Grenville, as also Mr. Mayor, are all that I have opened my doors to. Many I find are enough disposed to take a view of me; whether from mere curiosity to see a strange new creature, viz., a leader whom nobody follows, or any other reason why, I do not conjecture. (') I must now, my life, draw to a conclusion; for my hand ad

(1) "I do not wonder," writes Lady Chatham, in answer, "at the shower of civilities that continually rains upon you. All are proud of their acquaintance with Virtue, and eager to solicit the being acknowledged; but to follow her is above their view, unless they could find Interest to guide them — who but seldom travels that path. So much for the leader without followers, who must be flattered something, I think, with the tribute he receives; and to know that whenever it may please Providence to order that he should be the dispenser of the goods of this world, all, in the general sense, would march after his banner."

monishes me not to be too bold. Kisses upon kisses to the little children.

Your ever loving husband,

W. PITT.

THE HON. THOMAS WALPOLE TO MR. NUTHALL.

DEAR NUTHALL,

Paris, November 21, 1765.

THE day I left London I should have received a letter from the great man, which reached me here, and whereof you have inclosed a copy (1), and my answer, to be forwarded to him; which I hope you will like at all events, it must go, such as it is.

You may imagine how happy I am with every part of so kind and honourable a testimony of my conduct, and how grieved at finding myself deprived by this journey of making the speediest and most effectual use of what I consider as a public declaration of his disposition. I have communicated that particular paragraph to Lord Rockingham, and advised him to talk immediately to Lord Camden upon it; and I am impatient to know, whether the understanding of the ministry continues to be clouded as I left it. With regard to Hayes, I have agreed to his proposal, and we are both in your hands and I am satisfied.

I am, dear Nuthall,

Your most affectionate servant,

THOMAS WAlpole.

(1) See p. 328.

THE HON. THOMAS WALPOLE TO MR. PITT.

SIR,

Paris, November 21, 1765.

I RECEIVED here the letter you honoured me with the 5th instant. * * I have nearly observed the situation of persons in high office, whose private characters deserve the fullest esteem, and lamented to see them trusting to appearances, mistrusting even their own consciousness of being deceived; for want of all practice and experience misled by others, who are content to see their country sinking, if they hold their offices to the last, and, daring neither to go forwards nor backwards, stand like men staggering in the dark, till the building falls about their ears. They are very sensible of the breach which has lately happened, as well as of the only means to strengthen and support the fabric; and yet I had the misfortune to see, before I left England, that, with the best dispositions, I know not by what fatality, they were not in the right way of procuring that assistance. Therefore I was the less concerned about my journey.

I have been very differently affected, since you condescended to give me some intimation of your thoughts on this melancholy subject; and you will forgive me, Sir, if I could not refrain even at this distance endeavouring to make them useful. I considered it as a duty towards those who deserve compassion, towards you, and above all towards my

country, that the only probable means of extricating it from the difficulties it labours under should not be concealed.

In the meanwhile, there appears good reason to think our rivals abroad are not tremendous. The confusion in every department is beyond credibility, and much time and better abilities will be necessary, before they can give any disturbance to Europe. I am, Sir,

Your most obedient and

most humble servant,

THOMAS WALPOLE.

MR. PITT TO LADY CHATHAM.

Bath, Sunday night, November 24, 1765.

WHAT Comfort, my dearest life, to be able to send you, with my own hand, better tidings of my gout! I have been taken up to-day, and I write, sitting in my great chair by my friends, like an alderman of Bath. My importance in my own eyes does not stop here; for they have this morning beheld by my bed-side the Duke of Bedford, sitting like any brother alderman, just descended from the curule chair of mayoralty, talking very placidly (and, to be serious, very politely) of houses in the Circus, pleasant airings, Somersetshire prospects, &c.; fitting discourse for such emeriti, as we are.

How can I thank you for your kind solicitudes,

and for the joy and comfort of your letter, which tells me that you and the dear children are well!

I am out of pain; but, not to talk myself into pain again, I will bid good night. Tenderest blessings from papa to all the pretty, affectionate inquirers.

Your ever loving husband,

W. PITT.

MR. PITT TO LADY CHATHAM.

Bath, Thursday night,

[November 28, 1765.]

To convey by a sure hand to my dearest life a full and true account of the state of our person, I dispatch the slow but safe William; who will, I trust, bring me back on Saturday night as good a report at least of Burton Pynsent as he carries of the health of Bath. I have been airing in the coach to-day, for the second time, nearly three hours, and came home untired; wanting nothing but dinner, and the sight of my love and of my children. can stand with the help of crutches, and hope soon to discard one of them. Who knows, in time, what may become of his companion? My left hand holds a fork at dinner with some gentilesse, and my right holds, as you see, a pen, inferior to that of few writing-masters, excepting always those two famous scribes, Hester and John.

I