fessor, or only a lover of engraving? If the former, and he were to
settle in town, I would willingly lend him heads to copy. Adieu!

_POPULARITY OF LOUIS XVI--DEATH OF LORD HOLLAND--BRUCE'S "TRAVELS."_

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, _July_ 10, 1774.

The month is come round, and I have, besides, a letter of yours to
answer; and yet if I were not as regular as a husband or a merchant in
paying my just dues, I think I should not perform the function, for I
certainly have no natural call to it at present. Nothing in yours
requires a response, and I have nothing new to tell you. Yet, if one
once breaks in upon punctuality, adieu to it! I will not give out, after
a perseverance of three-and-thirty years; and so far I will not resemble
a husband.

The whole blood royal of France is recovered from the small-pox. Both
Choiseul and Broglie are recalled, and I have some idea that even the
old Parliament will be so. The King is adored, and a most beautiful
compliment has been paid to him: somebody wrote under the statue of
Henri Quatre, _Resurrexit_.[1]

[Footnote 1: "_Resurrexit._" A courtly picture-dealer, eager to make a
market of the new sovereign's popularity, devised even a neater
compliment to him, issuing a picture of the three sovereigns--Louis
XII., Henri IV., and the young king--with an explanation that 4 and 12
made 16.]

Lord Holland is at last dead, and Lady Holland is at the point of death.
His sons would still be in good circumstances, if they were not _his_
sons; but he had so totally spoiled the two eldest, that they would
think themselves bigots if they were to have common sense. The
prevailing style is not to reform, though Lord Lyttelton [the bad Lord]
pretends to have set the example. Gaming, for the last month, has
exceeded its own outdoings, though the town is very empty. It will be
quite so to-morrow, for Newmarket begins, or rather the youth adjourn
thither. After that they will have two or three months of repose; but if
they are not severely blooded and blistered, there will be no
alteration. Their pleasures are no more entertaining to others, than
delightful to themselves; one is tired of asking every day, who has won
or lost? and even the portentous sums they lose, cease to make
impression. One of them has committed a murder, and intends to repeat
it. He betted L1,500 that a man could live twelve hours under water;
hired a desperate fellow, sunk him in a ship, by way of experiment, a