I was prevented from finishing my letter yesterday, by what do you think?  By no less magnificent a circumstance than a deluge.  We have had an extraordinary drought, no grass, no leaves. no flowers; not a white rose for the festival of yesterday!  About four arrived such a flood, that we could not see out of the windows:  the whole lawn was a lake, though situated on so high an Ararat:  presently it broke through the leads, drowned the pretty blue bedchamber, passed through ceilings and floors into the little parlour, terrified Harry, and opened all Catherine’s water-gates and speech-gates.  I had but just time to collect two dogs, a couple of sheep, a pair of bantams, and a brace of gold fish; for, in the haste of my zeal to imitate my ancestor Noah, I forgot that fish would not easily be drowned.  In short, if you chance to spy a little ark with pinnacles sailing towards Jersey, open the skylight, and you will find some of your acquaintance.  You never saw such desolation!  A pigeon brings word that Mabland has fared still worse:  it never came into my head before, that a rainbow-office for insuring against water might be very necessary.  This is a true account of the late deluge.  Witness our hands Horace Noah.  Catherine Noah, her mark.  Harry Shem.  Louis Japhet.  Peter Ham, etc.

I was going to seal my letter, and thought I should scarce have any thing more important to tell you than the history of the flood, when a most extraordinary piece of news indeed arrived—­nothing less than a new gunpowder plot-last Monday was to be the fatal day.  There was a ball at Kew—­Vanneschi and his son, directors of the Opera, two English lords, and two Scotch lords, are in confinement at Justice Fielding’s.  This is exactly all I know of the matter; and this -weighty intelligence is brought by the waterman from my housemaid in Arlington Street, who sent Harry word that the town is in an uproar; and to confirm it, the waterman says he heard the same thing at Hungerford-stairs.  I took the liberty to represent to Harry, that the ball at Kew was this day se’nnight for the Prince’s birthday; that, as the Duke was at it, I imagined the Scotch lords would rather have chosen that day for the execution of their tragedy; that I believe Vanneschi’s son was a child; and that peers are generally confined at the Tower, not at Justice Fielding’s; besides, that we are much nearer to Kew than Hungerford-stairs are but Harry, who has not at all recovered the deluge, is extremely disposed to think Vanneschi very like Guy Fawkes; and is so persuaded that so dreadful a story could not be invented, that I have been forced to believe it too:  and in the course of our reasoning and guessing, I told him, that though I could not fix upon all four, I was persuaded that the late Lord Lovat who was beheaded must be one of the Scotch peers, and Lord Anson’s son who is not begot, one of the English.  I was afraid he would think I treated so serious a business too ludicrously, if I had hinted at the scene of distressed friendship that would be occasioned by Lord Hardwicke’s examining his intimate Vanneschi.  Adieu! my dear Sir.  Mr. Fox and Lady Caroline, and Lord and Lady Kildare, are to dine here to-day; and if they tell Harry or me any more of the plot you shall know it.