In speaking of a tutor recommended for young Morris Robinson, Mrs. Scott writes: “At Mrs. Cockerell’s he taught the young ladies to read, had a few pupils of his own, and read and preached well as curate in Chelsea Church.... The only blot in Mr. Sympson’s character is that he was, I presume, two or three years married before he acknowledged it, in order to keep his fellowship; for when he brought his wife to Chelsea, she had a child or two. Though necessity ought not to be without law (we are told it is so), it may justly be pleaded as some alleviation of the breach of law. As his wife, on this account, came among us under a little cloud, the quality of Chelsea did not visit her, except Mrs. Freind, and one or two more who spoke well of her.... The other Miss Burrell (one, you know, married Lord Algernon Percy) is going to be married to Duke Hamilton, and they are going to consummate their unfinished loves on shipboard; for she is to accompany him to America, where it is very proper he should go, as the amplest field for him to indulge his passion for shooting. He has exercised himself with shooting across Hanover Square out of a wind-gun, to the utter dismay of old Lady Westmoreland, and Sir Thomas Fredericks. A bullet whistled by the ear of the latter, as he sat in his dining-room, and lodged in the wainscot; two more penetrated into other parts. Surprized at so dangerous an incident, he ran to the window, and there saw the duke, his _vis à vis_, at his window, with a gun in his hand. He immediately sallied forth to give his grace a deserved chiding, but during the time, the duke having had leisure to charge again, he shot dead a favourite dog which bore Sir Thomas company.” In a later letter, Mrs. Montagu, referring to the above marriage, says: “Miss Burrell has no reason to be afraid of Duke Hamilton. He might boyishly fire off a gun, but he has the character of a very good-humoured young man. He has no vices, is handsome, and is, in all respects, like other people. He does not make any great _éclat_; but the next best thing to great and good reputation is, to be little spoken of. When there are not talents for the first, there is prudence in the latter. “... I suppose you know there was a report of my father’s death. My porter had a very fatiguing morning with messages. I had promised to introduce the Dowager Duchess of Beaufort to the French ambassadress on Wednesday night. So, tho’ the weather was terrible, I went out, and such was the report of poor papa, that I was stared at as a ghost as I enter’d the room, and the servants below were very busy questioning my footmen. To-day I had a message from Lady Anne and Lady Betty Finch, with an apology, that not having heard of that melancholy event till to-day, they had not sent their enquiries. All this while the old gentleman is in as good health as he has been this twelvemonth.” This purely private subject is followed, in a letter of April 10, 1778, by one of public importance.