I had this morning a subscription pool@ brought me for our parish; Lord Granville had refused to subscribe.  This is in the style of his friend Lord Bath, who has absented himself whenever any act of authority was to be executed against the rebels.

Five Scotch lords are going to raise regiments `a l’Angloise! resident in London, while the rebels were in Scotland; they are to receive military emoluments for their neutrality!

The Fox man-of-war of twenty guns is lost off Dunbar.  One Beavor, the captain, had done us notable service:  the Pretender sent to commend his zeal and activity, and to tell him, that if he would return to his allegiance, be should soon have a flag.  Beavor replied, “he never treated with any but principals; that if the Pretender would come on board him, he would talk with him.”  I must now tell you of our great Vernon:  without once complaining to the ministry, he has written to Sir John Philipps, a distinguished Jacobite, to complain of want of provisions; yet they do not venture to recall him!  Yesterday they had another baiting from Pitt, who is ravenous for the place of secretary at war:  they would give it him; but as a preliminary, he insists on a declaration of our having nothing to do with the Continent.  He mustered his forces, but did not notify his intention; only at two o’clock Lyttelton said at the Treasury, that there would be business at the House.  The motion was to augment our naval force, which, Pitt said, was the only method of putting an end to the rebellion.  Ships built a year hence to suppress an army of Highlanders, now marching through England!  My uncle attacked him, and congratulated his country on the wisdom of the modern young men; and said he had a son of two-and-twenty, who, he did not doubt, would come over wiser than any of them.  Pitt was provoked, and retorted on his negotiations and greyheaded experience.  At those words, my uncle, as if he had been at Bartholomew fair, snatched off his wig, and showed his gray hairs, which made the august senate laugh, and put Pitt out, who, after laughing himself, diverted his venom upon Mr. Pelham.  Upon the question, Pitt’s party amounted but to thirty-six:  in short, he has nothing left but his words, and his haughtiness, and his Lytteltons, and his Grenvilles.  Adieu!

453 Letter 188 To Sir Horace Mann.  Arlington Street, Nov. 29, 1745.

We have had your story here this week of the pretended pretender, but with the unlucky circumstance of its coming from the Roman Catholics.  With all the faith you have in your little spy, I cannot believe it; though, to be sure, it has a Stuart-air, the not exposing the real boy to danger.  The Duke of Newcastle mentioned your account this morning to my uncle; but they don’t give any credit to the courier’s relation.  It grows so near being necessary for the young man to get off by any evasion, that I am persuaded all that party will try to have it believed.  We are so far from thinking that