were settled, all bargains made, and much money advanced:  and by the way, though there never was so little a party, or so little to be made by a seat in Parliament, either with regard to profit or fame, there never was such established bribery, or so profuse.  And as every thing was settled by his life, so every thing is thrown into confusion by his death:  the difficulty Of naming, or of who should name the successor, is almost insurmountable—­for you are not such a transmontane as to imagine that the, person who must sign the warrant will have the filling it up.  The three apparent candidates are Fox, Pitt, and Murray; all three -with such encumbrances on their hopes as make them very desperate.  The Chancellor hates Fox; the Duke of Newcastle does not (I don’t say, love him, but to speak in the proper phrase, does not) pretend to love him:  the Scotch abominate him, and they and the Jacobites make use of his connexion with the Duke to represent him as formidable:  the Princess cannot approve him for the same reason:  the law, as in duty bound to the Chancellor and to Murray, and to themselves, whom he always attacks, must dislike him.  He has his parts and the Whigs, and the seeming right of succession.  Pitt has no health, no party, and has, what in this case is allowed to operate, the King’s negative.  Murray is a Scotchman, and it has been suspected, of the worst dye:  add a little of the Chancellor’s jealousy—­all three are obnoxious to the probability of the other two being disobliged by a preference.  There is no doubt but the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle will endeavour to secure their own power, by giving an exclusion to Fox:  each of them has even been talked of for Lord Treasurer; I say talked of, though Mr. Pelham died but yesterday; but you can’t imagine how much a million of people can talk in a day on such a subject!  It was even much imagined yesterday, that Sir George Lee would be the Hulla, to wed the post, till things are ripe for divorcing him again:  he is an unexceptionable man, sensible, of good character, the ostensible favourite of the Princess, and obnoxious to no set of men:  for though he changed ridiculously quick on the Prince’s death, yet as every body changed with him, it offended nobody; and what is a better reason for promoting him now, it would offend nobody to turn him out again.

In this buzz is all the world at present:  as the plot thickens or opens, you shall hear more.  In the mean time you will not dislike to know a little of the circumstances of this death.  Mr. Pelham was not sixty-one; his florid, healthy constitution promised long life, and his uninterrupted good fortune as long power; yet the one hastened his end, and the other was enjoyed in its full tranquillity but three poor years! i should not say, enjoyed, for such was his peevishness and suspicions, that the lightest trifles could poison all that stream of happiness! he was careless of his health, most intemperate in