I am more convinced every day, that there is not only no knowledge of the world out of a great city, but no decency, no practicable society-I had almost said, not a virtue.  I will only instance in modesty, which all old Englishmen are persuaded cannot exist within the atmosphere of Middlesex.  Lady Mary has a remarkable taste and knowledge of music, and can sing; I don’t say, like your sister, but I am sure she would be ready to die if obliged to sing before three people, or before One with whom she is not intimate.  The other day there came to see her a Norfolk heiress:  the young gentlewoman had not been three hours in the house, and that for the first time of her life, before she notified her talent for singing, and invited herself up-stairs, to Lady Mary’s harpsichord; where, with a voice like thunder, and with as little harmony, she sang to nine or ten people for an hour.  “Was ever nymph like Rossvmonde?"-no, d’honneur.  We told her, she had a very strong voice.  “Lord, Sir! my master says it is nothing to what it was.”  My dear child, she brags abominably; if it had been a thousandth degree louder, you must have heard it at Florence.

I did not write to you last post, being overwhelmed with this sort of people — I will be more punctual in London.  Patapan is in my lap:  I had him wormed lately, which he took famously:  I made it up with him by tying a collar of rainbow-riband about his neck, for a token that he is never to be wormed any more.

I had your long letter of two sheets of Sept. 17th, and wonder at your perseverance in telling me so much as you always do, when I, dull creature, find so little for you.  I can only tell you that the more you write, the happier you make me; and I assure you, the more details the better:  I so often lay schemes for returning to you, that I am persuaded I shall, and would keep up my stock of Florentine ideas.

I honour Matthew’s punctilious observance of his Holiness’s dignity.  How incomprehensible Englishmen are!  I should have sworn that he would have piqued himself on calling the Pope the w- of Babylon, and have begun his remonstrance, with “you old d-d-.”  What extremes of absurdities! to flounder from Pope Joan to his Holiness!  I like your reflection, “that every body can bully the Pope.”  There was a humourist called Sir James of the Peak, who had been beat by a felony, who afterwards underwent the same operation from a third hand.  “Zound,” said Sir James, “that I did not know this fellow would take a beating!” Nay, my dear child, I don’t know that Matthews would!

You know I always thought the Tesi comique, pendant que `ca devroit, `etre tragique.  I am happy that my sovereign lady expressed my opinion so well-by the way, is De Sade still with you?  Is he still in pawn by the proxy of his clothes? has the Princess as constant retirements to her bedchamber with the colique and Amenori?  Oh!  I was struck the other day with a resemblance of mine hostess at Brandon