time we pass the corner of
Warwick Street! We have a little comfort for your sake and our own, in
believing that the campaign is at an end, at least for this year--but
they tell us, it is to recommence here or in Ireland. You have nothing
to do with that. Our politics, I think, will soon be as warm as our war.
Charles Townshend is to be lieutenant-general to Mr. Pitt. The Duke of
Bedford is privy seal; Lord Thomond, cofferer; Lord George Cavendish,
comptroller.

Diversions, you know, Madam, are never at high-water mark before
Christmas; yet operas flourish pretty well: those on Tuesdays are
removed to Mondays, because the Queen likes the burlettas, and the King
cannot go on Tuesdays, his post-days. On those nights we have the middle
front box, railed in, where Lady Mary [Coke] and I sit in triste state
like a Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress. The night before last there was a
private ball at court, which began at half an hour after six, lasted
till one, and finished without a supper. The King danced the whole time
with the Queen,--Lady Augusta with her four younger brothers. The other
performers were: the two Duchesses of Ancaster and Hamilton, who danced
little; Lady Effingham and Lady Egremont, who danced much; the six maids
of honour; Lady Susan Stewart, as attending Lady Augusta; and Lady
Caroline Russel, and Lady Jane Stuart, the only women not of the family.
Lady Northumberland is at Bath; Lady Weymouth lies in; Lady Bolingbroke
was there in waiting, but in black gloves, so did not dance. The men,
besides the royals, were Lords March and Eglintoun, of the bedchamber;
Lord Cantelupe, vice-chamberlain; Lord Huntingdon; and four strangers,
Lord Mandeville, Lord Northampton, Lord Suffolk, and Lord Grey. No
sitters-by, but the Princess, the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady Bute.

If it had not been for this ball, I don't know how I should have
furnished a decent letter. Pamphlets on Mr. Pitt[1] are the whole
conversation, and none of them worth sending cross the water: at least
I, who am said to write some of them, think so; by which you may
perceive I am not much flattered with the imputation. There must be new
personages, at least, before I write on any side.--Mr. Pitt and the Duke
of Newcastle! I should as soon think of informing the world that Miss
Chudleigh is no vestal. You will like better to see some words which Mr.
Gray has writ, at Miss Speed's request, to an old air of Geminiani; the
thought is from the French.