," since in
character Elizabeth closely resembled Catharine.]

We have not yet taken the galleons, nor destroyed the Spanish fleet. Nor
have they enslaved Portugal, nor you made a triumphant entry into
Naples. My dear sir, you see how lucky you were not to go thither; you
don't envy Sir James Grey, do you? Pray don't make any categorical
demands to Marshal Botta,[1] and be obliged to retire to Leghorn,
because they are not answered. We want allies; preserve us our friend
the Great Duke of Tuscany. I like your answer to Botta exceedingly, but
I fear the Court of Vienna is shame-proof. The Apostolic and Religious
Empress is not a whit a better Christian, not a jot less a woman, than
the late Russian Empress, who gave such proofs of her being a _woman_.

[Footnote 1: Marshal Botta was the Commander-in-chief in Tuscany.]

We have a mighty expedition on the point of sailing; the destination not
disclosed. The German War loses ground daily; however, all is still in
embryo. My subsequent letters are not likely to be so barren, and
indecisive. I write more to prove there is nothing, than to tell you
anything.

You were mistaken, I believe, about the Graftons; they do not remove
from Turin, till George Pitt arrives to occupy their house there. I am
really anxious about the fate of my letter to the Duchess [of Grafton];
I should be hurt if it had miscarried; she would have reason to think me
very ungrateful.

I have given your letter to Mr. T[homas] Pitt; he has been very
unfortunate since his arrival--has lost his favourite sister in
child-bed. Lord Tavistock, I hear, has written accounts of you that give
me much pleasure.

I am ashamed to tell you that we are again dipped into an egregious
scene of folly. The reigning fashion is a ghost[1]--a ghost, that would
not pass muster in the paltriest convent in the Apennine. It only knocks
and scratches; does not pretend to appear or to speak. The clergy give
it their benediction; and all the world, whether believers or infidels,
go to hear it. I, in which number you may guess, go to-morrow; for it is
as much the mode to visit the ghost as the Prince of Mecklenburgh, who
is just arrived. I have not seen him yet, though I have left my name for
him. But I will tell you who is come too--Lady Mary Wortley.[2] I went
last night to visit her; I give you my honour, and you who know her,
would credit me without it, the following is a faithful description. I
found her in a little miserab