him, not only to turn out all the old ministry, but the new too, if he wished to save Sir R. and others of his friends; and that, as they supposed he designed to get the great bills passed, and then prorogue the Parliament, they were determined to keep back some of the chief bills, and sit all the summer, examining into the late administration.  Accordingly, yesterday, in a most full house, Lord Limerick (500) (who, last year, seconded the famous motion )501)) moved for a committee to examine into the conduct of the last twenty years, and was seconded by Sir John St. Aubin.(502) In short, (for I have not time to tell you the debate at length,) we divided, between eight and nine, when there was not a man of our party that did not expect to lose it by at least fifteen or twenty, but, to our great amazement, and their as great confusion, we threw out the motion, by a majority of 244 against 242.(503) Was there ever a more surprising event! a disgraced minister, by his personal interest, to have a majority to defend him even from inquiry!  What was ridiculous, the very man who seconded the motion happened to be shut out at the division; but there was one on our side shut out too.

I don’t know what violent step they will take next; it must be by surprise, for when they could not carry this, it will be impossible for them to carry any thing more personal.  We trust that the danger is now past, though they had a great meeting to-day at Doddington ’S,(504) and threaten still.  He was to have made the motion, but was deterred by the treatment he met last week.  Sir John Norris was not present; he has resigned all his employments, in a pique for not being named of the new Admiralty.  His old Grace of Somerset (505) is reconciled to his son, Lord Hertford, on his late affair of having the regiment taken from him:  he sent for him, and told him he had behaved like his son.

My dearest child, I have this moment received a most unexpected and most melancholy letter from you, with an account of your fever and new operation.  I did not in the least dream of your having any more trouble from that disorder! are you never to be delivered from it?  Your letter has shocked me extremely; and then I am terrified at the Spaniards passing so near Florence.  If they should, as I fear they will, stay there, how inconvenient and terrible it would be for you, now you are ill!  You tell me, and my good Mr. Chute tells me, that you are out of all danger, and much better; but to what can I trust, when you have these continual relapses?  The vast time that passes between your writing and my receiving your letters, makes me flatter myself, that by now you are out of all pain:  but I am miserable, with finding that you may be still subject to new torture! not all your courage, which is amazing can give me any about you.  But how can you write to me?  I will not suffer it-and now, good Mr. Chute will write for you.  I am so angry at your writing immediately after that dreadful operation, though I see your goodness in it, that I will not say a word more to you.  All the rest is to Mr. Chute.