My last letter to you could not be got out of England, before I might have added a melancholy supplement.  Accounts of a total defeat of Braddock, and his forces are arrived from America; the purport is, that the General having arrived within a few miles of Fort du Quesne, (I hope you are perfect in your American geography?) sent an advanced party, under Lord Gage’s brother:  they were fired upon, invisibly, as they entered a wood; Braddock heard guns, and sent another party to support the former; but the first fell back in confusion on the second, and the second on the main body.  The whole was in disorder, and it is said, the General himself’, though exceedingly brave, did not retain all the sang froid that was necessary.  The common soldiers in general, fled; the officers stood heroically and were massacred:  our Indians were not surprised, and behaved gallantly.  The General had five horses shot under him, no bad symptoms of his spirit, and at last was brought off by two Americans, no English daring, though Captain Orme,(600) his aid-de-camp, who is wounded too, and has made some noise here by an affair of gallantry, offered Sixty guineas to have him conveyed away.  We have lost twenty-six officers, besides many wounded, and ten pieces of artillery.  Braddock lived four days, in great torment.(601) What makes the rout more shameful is, that instead of a great pursuit, and a barbarous massacre by the Indians, which is always to be feared in these rencontres, not a black or white soul followed our troops, but we had leisure two days afterwards to fetch off our dead.  In short, our American laurels are strangely blighted!  We intended to be in great alarms for Carolina and Virginia, but the small number of our enemies had reduced this affair to a panic.  We pretend to be comforted on the French deserting Fort St. John, and on the hopes we have from two other expeditions which are on foot in that part of the world-but it is a great drawback on English heroism I pity you who represent the very flower of British courage ingrafted on a Brunswick stock!

I have already given you some account of Braddock; I may complete the poor man’s history in a few more words:  he once had a duel with Colonel Gumley, Lady Bath’s(602) brother, who had been his great friend:  as they were going to engage, Gumley, who had good humour and wit, (Braddock had the latter,) said “Braddock, you are a poor dog! here take my purse; if you kill me you will be forced to run away, and then you will not have a shilling to support you.”  Braddock refused the purse, insisted on’ the duel, was disarmed, and would not even ask his life.  However, with all his brutality, he has lately been Governor of Gibraltar, where he made himself adored, and where scarce any Governor was endured before.  Adieu!  Pray don’t let any detachment from Pannoni’s(603) be sent against us—­we should run away!

(600) He married the sister of George Lord Townshend, without the consent of her family.