Young Churchill has got a daughter by the Frasi;(957) Mr. Winnington calls it the opera-comique ; the mother is an opera girl; the grandmother was Mrs. Oldfield.

I must tell you of a very extraordinary print, which my Lady Burlington gives away, of her daughter Euston, -with this inscription: 

Lady Dorothy Boyle,
Once the pride, the joy, the -comfort of her parents,
The admiration of all that saw her,
The delight of all that knew her. 
Born May 14, 1724, married alas!  Oct. 10, 1741, an
delivered from extremest misery May 2, 1742.

This print was taken from a picture drawn by memory seven weeks after her death, by her most afflicted mother; DOROTHY BURLINGTON.(958)

I am forced to begin a new sheet, lest you should think my letter came from my Lady Burlington, as it ends so patly with her name.  But is it not a most melancholy way of venting oneself?  She has drawn numbers of these pictures:  I don’t approve her having them engraved; but sure the inscription(959) is pretty.

I was accosted the other night by ’a little, pert petit-maitre figure, that claimed me for acquaintance.  Do you remember to have seen at Florence an Abb`e Durazzo, of Genoa? well, this was he:  it is mighty dapper and French:  however, I will be civil to it:  I never lose opportunities of paving myself an agreeable passage back to Florence.  My dear Chutes, stay for me:  I think the first gale of peace will carry me to you.  Are you as fond of Florence as ever? of me you are not, I am sure, for you never write me a line.  You would be diverted with the grandeur of our old Florence beauty, Lady Carteret.  She dresses more extravagantly, and grows more short-sighted every day:  she can’t walk a step without leaning on one of her ancient daughters-in law.  Lord Tweedale and Lord Bathurst are her constant gentlemen-ushers.  She has not quite digested her resentment to Lincoln yet.  He was walking with her at Ranelagh the other night, and a Spanish refugee marquis,(960) who is of the Carteret court, but who, not being quite perfect in the carte du pais, told my lady, that Lord Lincoln had promised him to make a very good husband to Miss Pelham.  Lady Carteret, with an accent of energy, replied, “J’esp`ere qu’il tiendra sa promesse!” Here is a good epigram that has been made on her: 

“Her beauty, like the Scripture feast,
To which the invited never came,
Deprived of its intended guest,
Was given to the old and lame.”

Adieu! here is company; I think I may be excused leaving off at the sixth side.

(954) Thomas Carte, a laborious writer of history.  His principal works are, his Life of the Duke of Ormonde, in three volumes, folio, and his History of England, in four.  He
                        died in 1754.-D. [The former, though
ill-written, was considered by Dr. Johnson as a work of authority; and of the latter Dr. Warton remarks, “You may read Hume for his eloquence, but Carte is the historian for facts.”]