transported, that they are opening
subscriptions for all boroughs that shall be vacant--this is wise! They
will spend their money to carry a few more seats in a Parliament where
they will never have the majority, and so have none to carry the general
elections. The omen, however, is bad for Westminster; the High Bailiff
went to vote for the Opposition.

I now jump to another topic; I find all this letter will be detached
scraps; I can't at all contrive to hide the seams: but I don't care. I
began my letter merely to tell you of the earthquake, and I don't pique
myself upon doing any more than telling you what you would be glad to
have told you. I told you too how pleased I was with the triumphs of
another old beauty, our friend the Princess. Do you know, I have found a
history that has great resemblance to hers; that is, that will be very
like hers, if hers is but like it. I will tell it you in as few words as
I can. Madame la Marechale l'Hopital was the daughter of a seamstress; a
young gentleman fell in love with her, and was going to be married to
her, but the match was broken off. An old fermier-general, who had
retired into the province where this happened, hearing the story, had a
curiosity to see the victim; he liked her, married her, died, and left
her enough not to care for her inconstant. She came to Paris, where the
Marechal de l'Hopital married her for her riches. After the Marechal's
death, Casimir, the abdicated King of Poland, who was retired into
France, fell in love with the Marechale, and privately married her. If
the event ever happens, I shall certainly travel to Nancy, to hear her
talk of _ma belle fille la Reine de France_. What pains my Lady Pomfret
would take to prove that an abdicated King's wife did not take place of
an English countess; and how the Princess herself would grow still
fonder of the Pretender for the similitude of his fortune with that of
_le Roi mon mari_! Her daughter, Mirepoix, was frightened the other
night, with Mrs. Nugent's calling out, _un voleur! un voleur_! The
ambassadress had heard so much of robbing, that she did not doubt but
_dans ce pais cy_, they robbed in the middle of an assembly. It turned
out to be a _thief in the candle_! Good night!

GENERAL PANIC--SHERLOCK'S PASTORAL LETTER--PREDICTIONS OF MORE
EARTHQUAKES--A GENERAL FLIGHT FROM LONDON--EPIGRAMS BY CHUTE AND WALPOLE
HIMSELF--FRENCH TRANSLATION OF MILTON.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

ARLINGTON STREET, _April_