town on purpose a month ago for the Duke’s levee, and had engaged Brand to go with me—­and then could not bring myself to it.  At last, I went to him and Princess Emily yesterday.  It was well I had not flattered myself with being still in my bloom; I am grown so old since they saw me, that neither of them knew me.  When they were told, he just spoke to me (I forgive him; he is not out of my debt, even with that):  she was exceedingly gracious, and commended Strawberry to the skies.  To-night, I was asked to their party at Norfolk House.  These parties are wonderfully select and dignified:  one might sooner be a knight of Malta than qualified for them; I don’t know how the Duchess of Devonshire, Mr. Fox, and I, were forgiven some of our ancestors.  There were two tables at loo, two at whist, and a quadrille.  I was commanded to the Duke’s loo; he was sat down:  not to make him wait, I threw my hat upon the marble table, and broke four pieces off a great crystal chandelier.  I stick to my etiquette, and treat them with great respect; not as I do my friend, the Duke of York.  But don’t let us talk any more of Princes.  My Lucan appears to-morrow; I must say it is a noble volume.  Shall I send it to you—­or won’t you come and fetch it?

There is nothing new of public, but the violent commotions in Ireland,[1] whither the Duke of Bedford still persists in going.  Aeolus to quell a storm!

[Footnote 1:  “In 1759 reports that a Legislative Union was contemplated led to some furious Protestant riots in Dublin.  The Chancellor and some of the Bishops were violently attacked.  A judge in a law case warned the Roman Catholics that ’the laws did not presume a Papist to exist in the kingdom’; nor could they breathe without the connivance of the Government” (Lecky, “History of England,” ii. 436).  Gray, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, mentions that they forced their way into the House of Lords, and “placed an old woman on the throne, and called for pipes and tobacco.”  He especially mentions the Bishops of Killaloe and Waterford as exposed to ardent ill-treatment, and concludes:  “The notion that had possessed the crowd was that an union was to be voted between the two nations, and they should have no more Parliaments in Dublin.”]

I am in great concern for my old friend, poor Lady Harry Beauclerc; her lord dropped down dead two nights ago, as he was sitting with her and all their children.  Admiral Boscawen is dead by this time.  Mrs. Osborn[1] and I are not much afflicted:  Lady Jane Coke too is dead, exceedingly rich; I have not heard her will yet.

[Footnote 1:  Boscawen had been a member of the court martial which had found Admiral Byng guilty.  Mrs. Osborn was Byng’s sister.]

If you don’t come to town soon, I give you warning, I will be a lord of the bedchamber, or a gentleman usher.  If you will, I will be nothing but what I have been so many years—­my own and yours ever.

SEVERITY OF THE WEATHER—­SCARCITY IN GERMANY—­A PARTY AT PRINCE EDWARD’S—­CHARLES TOWNSEND’S COMMENTS ON LA FONTAINE.