the fortune to behold.

"Madam," he continued, "you are your own mistress, and may go where you please; but, before I went to Avignon, I would

step over to Eng- 'Oh, Sir John,” — with head turned back, both arms stretched forward, her hands playing quick the forbidding wave, "don't mention England, for thither I will not go!" and she gave vent to such a tirade, that even Sir John, all banker as he is, without discarding all decency, could not (instead of going so far as the first syllable of the word) have so much as mentioned the first letter of it again. Sir John, I suppose, having thought it his duty to you to make the effort, made it, and was about as well contented with its failure as he would have been with its success.

Sir John then said that he did not know what was to be done, as he supposed she could not be induced to think of going into a convent for a time. Then you came upon the tapis; and since you charge me to tell you all, this was the recrimination and abuse which I alluded to. "You were a pretty gentleman, indeed, to give advice about foreign connections: you might look at Milan!" In this she was heartily joined by the baron. And now, like the poor spy, who had a similar charge from the minister, you will kick me down-stairs, and bid me go to the Hague, or to the devil. I defended you, and urged that your connections at Milan were perfectly English, and that their for

eignness was a circumstance merely accidental; but, talk reason to a weak woman! you might as well wash a brick! Sir John, I find, has done for himself by his mention of the convent, which she repeated with acrimony. She can't bear also "that triste man," our poor dear doctor; so she had now but the par nobile, her baron bodily, and baron spiritual, and I wish heartily she would discard them both. We have no post in to-day. To-day! Heavens, what do I talk of? it is four o'clock in the morning. Well, thank heaven, I have now nearly come to the end of my history, and I sincerely wish it were a pleasanter one to you and

to me.

As for the baron, the lady is besotted to the fellow, and I am convinced will never be brought alive to England, unless he should desert or die. One day, before the storm came on, I was saying, I know not how introduced, "And you know, madam, you will be in England in the spring?" She immediately tipped me the wink, nodded her head, looked very cunning, and cried significantly, "Ay!" which, if I were to translate it into genteel language, I should say was, "So they may think, but they will be mistaken." 'Tis a miserable affair, and I am sure I cannot see what is to be done. I do not know what you will say at the result of this letter, but I am afraid it will distress you terribly; and I assure you it has distressed me terribly to write it. I do not pretend to more honesty than

other folks (as your conscientious psalm-singing scoundrels do), or you would never have taken me into your service; yet to sit down premeditatedly to expose a lady who is very civil to me, as I have been necessarily obliged to expose her, to endeavour to represent her to you at your request, with the utmost fidelity exactly as she is, to be a spy upon her when I am pretending friendship to her, in return for her civility, is such a rascally doublefaced, double-hearted thing, that I abhor myself for it. If by any possible chance she should come to see this letter, I believe I could not survive it ; not from her consequence, but my own extreme ignominy. You will not wish me to do anything more in this way, because you would not wish me to do anything that you would scorn to do yourself. If I mention her again it will be only so that it may be read at the market-cross.

I am very sorry for the loss of the Duke of Queensberry's ruffles, as it must be a matter of extreme vexation to you; mais c'est très peu de chose pour monsieur le duc; and if his Grace would honour me with his commands, I doubt not I could find him some elegant ones, with which I hope we should have better luck. I hope poor Pierre will not suffer long under your displeasure for it. There is no parcel left at Sir John's for Lady Midleton; when there is I will take the utmost care of it.

The ridiculous mistake of Como I was led into

by Roger: you will be so kind as to say something civil to him. I beg also you will have the goodness to tell Lord Ossory that I am very much obliged by his kind inquiry; but don't tell him that I am witty, for my Lord Ossory will take it as you mean it, and I should rather wish that he should take his own time for finding out how stupid a fellow I am, if he has not done it already. And pray, sir, consider whether your judgment may not be called in question for having chosen such a person to be plagued so long with, how much soever he may be

Your devoted, etc.

The Rev. Doctor Warner to George Selwyn.

December 17 [1778].

DEAR SIR:- No post in yesterday! We had one on Monday, but I have received nothing from you since your letter from the House of Commons of Friday, the 4th.

There is a report to-day that Byron and D'Estaing have had an action, which has terminated much in our favour. The Abbé Raynal tells me that he could settle all our political disputes in a trice; but, "he will not go to Versailles; not he!" My English pride was pleased by a circumstance which has made him very happy. A Mr. Trip, of Plymouth, is commissary for the prisoners of war, and upon importing a cargo of them lately, he found a marine officer of the name

of Raynal. "Sir, are you any relation of the author of the 'Histoire Philosophique?'" " Sir, I am his nephew." "Come to my house, sir." There he treated him with every distinction and civility in his power, in honour of his uncle, of whom he knew nothing but his book. The abbé wrote to Lord Mansfield, with whom he is much acquainted, in favour of his nephew, and had the honour to have him sent home free. But what of that? It was done at the instance of Lord Mansfield, and was the act of a friend to a friend; or, if you please, an argument of the liberality of our country, and its regard for letters. But it is Trip who has won his heart. It was there pure homage to the author; a distinction which the abbé exults in with much honest vanity.

I hope to hear, on Wednesday next, that my long letter of last post has been safely received. I also hope that this lady's affairs will be soon off your hands and spirits, and that you may feel yourself as easy and as happy as I wish you.

WILLIAM FRANCIS RAYNAL.

WILLIAM FRANCIS RAYNAL, formerly so celebrated as a historical and political writer, was born at St. Geniez, in the Rouergue. He was educated among the Jesuits, and entered into their Order. He quitted them, however, while he was