ity of L100 to relieve
him from the necessity of writing to increase his income.]

[Footnote 3: Count Lally, of an Irish family, his father or grandfather
having been among those who, after the capitulation of Limerick,
accompanied the gallant Sarsfield to France, had been the French
governor in India; but, having failed in an attempt on Madras, and
having been afterwards defeated at Wandewash by Colonel Coote, was
recalled in disgrace, and brought to trial on a number of ridiculously
false charges, convicted, and executed; his real offence being that by a
somewhat intemperate zeal for the reformation of abuses, and the
punishment of corruption which he detested, he had made a great number
of personal enemies. He was the father of Count Lally Tollendal, who was
a prominent character in the French Revolution.]

The East India Company have come to an unanimous resolution of not
paying Lord Clive the three hundred thousand pounds, which the Ministry
had promised him in lieu of his Nabobical annuity. Just after the
bargain was made, his old rustic of a father was at the King's levee;
the King asked where his son was; he replied, "Sire, he is coming to
town, and then your Majesty will have another vote." If you like these
franknesses, I can tell you another. The Chancellor [Northington] is a
chosen governor of St. Bartholomew's Hospital: a smart gentleman, who
was sent with the staff, carried it in the evening, when the Chancellor
happened to be drunk. "Well, Mr. Bartlemy," said his lordship, snuffing,
"what have you to say?" The man, who had prepared a formal harangue, was
transported to have so fair opportunity given him of uttering it, and
with much dapper gesticulation congratulated his lordship on his health,
and the nation on enjoying such great abilities. The Chancellor stopped
him short, crying, "By God, it is a lie! I have neither health nor
abilities; my bad health has destroyed my abilities."[1] The late
Chancellor [Hardwicke] is much better.

[Footnote 1: Lord Northington had been a very hard liver. He was a
martyr to the gout; and one afternoon, as he was going downstairs out of
his Court, he was heard to say to himself, "D--- these legs! If I had
known they were to carry a Lord Chancellor, I would have taken better
care of them;" and it was to relieve himself of the labours of the Court
of Chancery that he co-operated with Mr. Pitt in the discreditable
intrigue which in the summer of 1766 compelled the resign