The chancellor who was present on the above occasion was “cursing Lord Northington,”—a coarse, witty man, married to a fool, who became the mother of the witty Lady Bridget Fox Lane. Northington, like Newcastle, had his fling at the bishops. In serious illness, he was counselled to send for a certain prelate. “He will never do,” said the patient. “I should have to confess that I committed my heaviest sin when I made him a bishop!” The primate who attended at the birth of the Prince of Wales was Secker; and as he was originally a dissenter, and was never baptised in the Church of England, there were anxious church-women who thought that his christening George Prince of Wales would never make a Christian of him. And it can’t be said that it did! Meanwhile, how things were otherwise going in England, Mrs. Scott relates to her brother, in Rome, in a letter dated September, 1762. “The lowest artificer thinks now of nothing but the constitution of the government.... The English always seemed born politicians, but were never so universally mad on the subject as at present. If you order a mason to build an oven, he immediately inquires about the progress of the peace, and descants on the preliminaries. A carpenter, instead of putting up a shelf to a cupboard, talks of the Princess Dowager, of Lord Treasarre, and of secretaries of state. Neglected lie the trowel and the chisel; the mortar dries and the glue hardens while the persons who should use them are busied with dissertations on the government. “... The Duke of Marlborough and Lady Caroline Russell were married eight and forty hours after his grace declared himself a lover. The Duke of Bedford was always known to be a man of business, but he never despatched a matter quicker than this. He gave to Lady Caroline £50,000 down, and is to give as much more at his death.” The next letter, written at Sandleford, October the 8th, 1762, is addressed to the writer’s sister-in-law, “Mrs. Robinson, Recommendé à Monsieur Jenkins, Gentilhome Anglois au Caffé Anglois, sur la Place di Espana, Rome.” It commences with “My dear Madam,” and after a very prolix argument on the lack of interest in home news sent to travellers abroad, Mrs. Montagu refers with pride to the English triumphs at the Havanna and Martinico, and thus continues.... “But we are not much the nearer to a peace; for, as ambition subsides or crouches in the House of Bourbon, it rises in the Court of Aldermen, in London. When we shut the Temple of Janus, we shut up the trade of Change Alley, and the city finds its account in a war, and they clamour against any peace that will not give us the commerce of the whole world!...