painted Wilkes and faction, and, with very little truth, denied the charge of menaces to officers.  At that moment, General A’Court walked up the House—­think what an impression such an incident must make, when passions, hopes, and fears, were all afloat—­think, too, how your brother and I, had we been ungenerous, could have added to these sensations!  There was a man not so delicate.  Colonel Barre rose—­and this attended with a striking circumstance; Sir Edward Deering, one of our noisy fools, called out, “Mr. Barre."[1] The latter seized the thought with admirable quickness, and said to the Speaker, who, in pointing to him, had called him Colonel, “I beg your pardon, Sir, you have pointed to me by a title I have no right to,” and then made a very artful and pathetic speech on his own services and dismission; with nothing bad but an awkward attempt towards an excuse to Mr. Pitt for his former behaviour.  Lord North, who will not lose his bellow, though he may lose his place, endeavoured to roar up the courage of his comrades, but it would not do—­the House grew tired, and we again divided at seven for adjournment; some of our people were gone, and we remained but 184, they 208; however, you will allow our affairs are mended, when we say, but 184. We then came away, and left the ministers to satisfy Wood, Webb, and themselves, as well as they could.  It was eight this morning before I was in bed; and considering that, this is no very short letter.  Mr. Pitt bore the fatigue with his usual spirit—­and even old Onslow, the late Speaker, was sitting up, anxious for the event.

[Footnote 1:  Mr. Barre had lately been dismissed from the office of Adjutant-General, on account of some of his votes in Parliament.  In 1784 he was appointed Clerk of the Rolls, a place worth above L3,000 a year, by Mr. Pitt, who, with extraordinary disinterestedness, forbore from taking it himself, that he might relieve the nation from a pension of similar amount which had been improperly conferred on the Colonel by Lord Rockingham.]

On Friday we are to have the great question, which would prevent my writing; and to-morrow I dine with Guerchy, at the Duke of Grafton’s, besides twenty other engagements.  To-day I have shut myself up; for with writing this, and taking notes yesterday all day, and all night, I have not an eye left to see out of—­nay, for once in my life, I shall go to bed at ten o’clock....

Adieu! pray tell Mr. Hume that I am ashamed to be thus writing the history of England, when he is with you!

LORD CLIVE—­MR. HAMILTON, AMBASSADOR TO NAPLES—­SPEECH OF LOUIS XV.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, June 8, 1764.

Your Red Riband is certainly postponed.  There was but one vacant, which was promised to General Draper, who, when he thought he felt the sword dubbing his shoulder, was told that my Lord Clive could not conquer the Indies a second time without being a Knight of the Bath.  This, however, I think will be but a short parenthesis, for I expect that heaven-born hero[1] to return from whence he came, instead of bringing hither all the Mogul’s pearls and rubies.  Yet, before that happens there will probably be other vacancies to content both Draper and you.