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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 890 pages of information about The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford Volume 3.

(720) Anne Howard, daughter of the third Earl of Carlisle, and widow of the third Viscount Irwin.  She was lady of the bedchamber to the Princess Dowager.  Mr. Park has introduced her into his edition of the Noble Authors.-C.

(721) Mr. Walpole means that he was courted during his father’s power, and neglected after his fall, as the daughters of a succeeding prime minister, Mr. Henry Pelham, now were; but as Lady Jane Stuart was but two-and-twenty years old, and Miss Pelham was thirty-six, we may account for the preference given to her ladyship at a ball, without any reference to the meanness and political time-serving of mankind.  Both the Misses Pelham died unmarried.-C.

(722) Sister of the Duke of Montagu.

(723) A French forgery called “Le Testament Politique du Chevalier Robert Walpole,” of which Mr. Walpole drew up an exposure, which is to be found in the second volume of his works.-C.

(724) The enthusiasm, however, ran pretty high, as we learn from the following passage, in one of the periodical papers of the day:—­“Signor Manzoli, the Italian singer at the Haymarket, got no less, after paying all charges of every kind, by his benefit last week (March, 1765), than 1000 guineas.  This added to a sum of 1,500 which he has already saved, and the remaining profits of the season, is surely an undoubted proof of British generosity.  One particular lady complimented the singer with a 200 pound bill for a ticket on that occasion."-C.’’

Letter 235 To George Montagu, Esq.  Arlington Street, Dec. 16, 1764. (page 362)

As I have not read in the paper that you died lately at Greatworth, in Northamptonshire, nor have met with any Montagu or Trevor in mourning, I conclude you are living:  I send this, however, to inquire, and if you should happen to be departed, hope your executor will be so kind as to burn it.  Though you do not seem to have the same curiosity about my existence, you may gather from my handwriting that I am still in being; which being perhaps full as much as you want to know of me, I will trouble you with no farther particulars about myself—­nay, nor about any body else; your curiosity seeming to be pretty much the same about all the world.  News there are certainly none; nobody is even dead, as the Bishop of Carlisle told me to-day, which I repeat to you in general, though I apprehend in his own mind he meant no possessor of a better bishopric.

If you like to know the state of the town, here it is.  In the first place, it is very empty; in the next, there are more diversions than the week will hold.  A charming Italian opera, with no dances and no company, at least on Tuesdays; to supply which defect, the subscribers are to have a ball and supper—­a plan that in my humble opinion will fill the Tuesdays and empty the Saturdays.  At both playhouses are woful English operas; which, however, fill better than the Italian, patriotism being

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