's
Works and Life of Franklin may remember, that, in the fourth volume,
under the head of "Hutchinson's Letters," the Doctor details
difficulties which he fell into in connection with "certain papers" he
obtained indirectly from one of His Majesty's officials, and
communicated to Thomas Gushing, Speaker of the House of Representatives
of Massachusetts Bay. The difficulty involved others besides the Doctor,
and a duel came of it between a certain William Whately and Mr. Temple.
This William Whately was the brother of Thomas Whately,--the author in
question,--and secretary to Lord Grenville,[L] in which capacity he died
in 1772.[M] The "papers" alluded to were letters from Governor
Hutchinson and others, expressing sympathy with the British Ministry in
their efforts to enforce a grievous Colonial taxation. It was currently
supposed that Mr. Secretary Whately was the recipient of these letters;
and upon their being made public after his death, Mr. Whately, his
brother and executor, conceived that Mr. Temple was the instrument of
their transfer. Hence the duel. Dr. Franklin, however, by public letter,
declared that this allegation was ill-founded, but would never reveal
the name of the party to whom he was indebted. The Doctor lost his place
of Postmaster-General for the Colonies, and was egregiously insulted by
Wedderburn in open Council; but he could console himself with the
friendship of such men as Lawyer Dunning, (one of the suspected authors
of "Junius,") and with the eulogium of Lord Chatham.

There are three more names belonging to this period which I shall bring
under review, to finish up my day. These are Horace Walpole, (Lord
Orford,) Edmund Burke, and Oliver Goldsmith. Walpole was the proprietor
of Strawberry Hill, and wrote upon gardening: Burke was the owner of a
noble farm at Beaconsfield, which he managed with rare sagacity:
Goldsmith could never claim land enough to dig a grave upon, until the
day he was buried; but he wrote the story of "The Vicar of Wakefield,"
and the sweet poem of "The Deserted Village."

I take a huge pleasure in dipping from time to time, into the books of
Horace Walpole, and an almost equal pleasure in cherishing a hearty
contempt for the man. With a certain native cleverness, and the tact of
a showman, he paraded his resources, whether of garden, or villa, or
memory, or ingenuity, so as to carry a reputation for ability that he
never has deserved. His money, and the distinction of