(1775,) Oct. 7, Saturday night.—­I returned from Luggershall yesterday, a day later than I was in hopes to have come, for I was made to believe that the Court Leet, which was my object in going, would have been held on Wednesday; however I passed a day extraordinary better than I expected in that beggarly place.  I made an acquaintance with a neighbouring gentleman, who has a very good estate, and a delightful old mansion, where I played at whist and supped on Wednesday evening.  He is a descendant of the Speaker Smith, and son of that Mr. Ashton whom we saw at Trentham, or whom I saw there the first’time I went, and who was an evidence against me at Oxford 30 years ago—­a sad rascal; but the son is un garcon fort honnete, and he received me with extraordinary marks of civility and good breeding.

We have the same relations, and his house was furnished with many of their pictures.  There was one of a great grandmother of mine, who was the Speaker’s sister, painted by Sir P. Lely, that was one of the best portraits I ever saw.  I wish Sir J. Reynolds had been there to have told me why those colours were so fine and looked as if they were not dry, while all his are as lamb (sic) black in comparison of them.  I am to have a copy of this picture next spring.

I shall appoint Gregg on Monday to meet me on business, and I will therefore defer talking upon that subject till I have seen him.  Storer dined with me to-day.  Hare and Charles I am told have lost everything they had at Newmarket.  General Smith has been the winner.  Richard also is stripped.  No company in town as yet, or news.  I have been writing Gloucester letters to-night about this damned contest till I am blind, so I must be short.  Ridley has assured me that he has sent the books.

Have you read the Anecdotes of Me du Barri?  They are to me amusing.  The book is I think a true picture of the latter end of the life and court of that weak wretch Louis XV., not overcharged, and so many of the facts being incontestable, you may take the whole story for a true one, no one part being more improbable than another.  Will you have it sent?  It is dear, half-a-guinea; un recit trop graveleux pour etre recommande aux dames.  My most affectionate compliments, and so adieu.  My eyes grow too dim to write, but are infinitely mended.

I dine to-morrow at the Ambassador’s, and after dinner we go to make our visits at Richmond to Lady Fawkener, and to Petersham.  I thank you for your idea of Emily(124):  j’en profiterai; I can depend upon no other’s.

(124) Edward Emly, Dean of Derry.  Selwyn always writes of him as “Emily”:  in a letter of March 24, 1781, he calls him “Mr. Dean Emily.”

In the midst of the news of the gaieties of the town, of the begging of political placemen for a higher rank in the peerage, we now come upon the question of America.  The English people had not yet appreciated the momentous struggle into which the King and his ministers had drawn their country.  The flippancy with which Selwyn alludes to the rebellion is indicative of the general state of opinion even among those who were constantly at the centre of political affairs.  The battle of Bunker’s Hill had been fought on the 17th of the preceding June, and yet to Selwyn the struggle beyond the Atlantic was merely a “little dispute.”