Dear Harry, I have received so kind and so long a letter from you, and so kind too because so long, that I feel I shall remain much in your debt, at least for length.  I won’t allow that I am in your debt for warmth of friendship.  I have nothing worth telling you:  we are hitherto conquered only in threat:  for my part.  I have so little expectation of an invasion, that I have not buried a single enamel, nor bought a pane of painted glass the less; of the two panics in fashion, the French and the earthquake, I have not even made my option yet.  The opposition get ground as little as either:  Mr. Pitt talks by Shrewsbury clock, and is grown almost as little heard as that is at Westminster.  We have had full eight days on the Pennsylvania regiment.  The young Hamilton has spoken and shone again; but nothing is luminous compared with Charles Townshend:—­he drops down dead in a fit, has a resurrection, thunders in the Capitol, confounds the treasury-bench, laughs at his own party, is laid up the next day, and overwhelms the Duchess and the good women that go to nurse him!  His brother’s Militia-bill(662) does not come on till next week:  in the mean time, he adorns the shutters, walls and napkins of every tavern in Pall Mall with caricatures of the Duke(663) and Sir George Lyttelton, the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Fox.  Your friend Legge has distinguished himself exceedingly on the supplies and taxes, and retains all the dignity of chancellor of the exchequer.  I think I never heard so complete a scene of ignorance as yesterday on the new duties!  Except Legge, you would not have thought there was a man in the House had learned troy-weight; Murray quibbled—­at Hume Campbell the House groaned!  Pitt and Fox were lamentable; poor Sir George never knew prices from duties, nor drawbacks from premiums!  The three taxes proposed were on plate, on bricks and tiles, on cards and dice.  The earthquake has made us so good, that the ministry might have burned the latter in Smithfield if they had pleased.  The bricks they were forced to give up, and consented graciously, to accept 70,000 pounds on alehouses, instead of 30,000 pounds on bricks.  They had nearly been forced to extend the duty on plate beyond 10 pounds carrying the restriction by a majority of only two.

An embargo is laid on the shipping, to get sailors.  The young court lords were going to raise troops of light horse, but my Lord Gower (I suppose by direction of the Duke) proposed to the King that they should rather employ their personal interest to recruit the army; which scheme takes place, and, as George Townshend said in the House, they are all turning recruiting sergeants.  But notwithstanding we so much expect a storm from France, I am told that in France they think much more of their own internal storms than of us.  Madame Pompadour wears devotion, whether forced or artful is not certain:  the disputes between the King and the parliament run very high, and the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Conti have