to wait, in hopes of prevailing on him to resume the seals—­that Duke is the arbiter of England!  Both the other parties are trying to unite with him.  The King pulls him, the next reign (for you know his grace is very young) pulls him back.  Present power tempts:  Mr. Fox’s unpopularity terrifies--he will reconcile all, with immediate duty to the King, with a salvo to the intention of betraying him to the Prince, to make his peace with the latter, as soon as he has made up with the former.  Unless his grace takes Mr. Fox by the hand, the latter is in an ugly situation—­if he does, is he in a beautiful one?

Yesterday began the famous and long-expected Inquiries.(778) The House of Commons in person undertakes to examine all the intelligence, letters, and orders, of the administration that lost Minorca.  In order to this, they pass over a -,,whole winter; then they send for cart-loads of papers from all the offices, leaving it to the discretion of the clerks to transcribe, insert, omit, whatever they please; and without inquiring what the accused ministers had left or secreted.  Before it was possible for people to examine these with any attention, supposing they were worth any, the whole House goes to work, sets the clerk to reading such bushels of letters, that the very dates fill three-and-twenty sheets of paper; he reads as fast as he can, nobody attends, every body goes away, and to-night they determined that the whole should be read through on tomorrow and Friday, that one may have time to digest on Saturday and Sunday what one had scarce heard, cannot remember, nor is it worth the while; and then on Monday, without asking any questions, examining any witnesses, authority, or authenticity, the Tories are to affirm that the ministers were very negligent; the Whigs, that they were wonderfully informed, discreet, provident, and active; and Mr. Pitt and his friends are to affect great zeal for justice, are to avoid provoking the Duke of Newcastle, and are to endeavour to extract from all the nothings they have not heard, something that is to lay all the guilt at Mr. Fox’s door.  Now you know very exactly what the Inquiries are-and this wise nation is gaping to see the chick which their old brood-hen the House of Commons will produce from an egg laid in November, neglected till April, and then hatched in a quicksand!

The common council have presented gold boxes with the freedom of their city to Mr. Pitt and Mr. Legge—­no gracious compliment to St. James’s.  It is expected that the example will catch, but as yet, I hear of no imitations.  Pamphlets, cards, and prints swarm again.  George Townshend has published one of the latter, which is so admirable in its kind, that I cannot help sending ’It to you.  His genius for likenesses in caricatura is astonishing—­indeed, Lord Winchelsea’s figure is not heightened—­your friends Doddington and Lord Sandwich are like; the former made me laugh till I cried.  The Hanoverian