Sir, I beg pardon for the heat which I find rising within me—but the inexorable hour of vengeance is not far distant; the heavy load of black and bloody guilt will sink you all.—The time will come when the thunder of the cannon will be heard at your walls. Examples will be made. The Tower and the Block must expiate the crimes of Ministers. The voice of truth will be heard. The Rubicon is passed.⸺Sir, what is the comparative state of the revenues of France, and of this country? Mons. Neckar, a very able and a very amiable man, has, I understand, found taxes, and not oppressive ones, for two years;—is that a fact?—The revenue of this country is diminished—it has been gradually so during this detestable war—will Ministers deny it? Good God, Sir, what a state are we in? Dominica lost!—Sir, Monsieur Bouillé was once my particular friend—Sir, he is returned to France for fresh powers and orders—look to your West-India settlements, callous as we are, we cannot bear the loss of them. Sir, I am astonished at the blind credulity of Ministry—can they be so very simple as to trust to vague compliments against those decisive words of the Pacte de Famille, the Family Compact, “Qui attaque une couronne attaque l’autre;” (I translate for the country Gentlemen) whoever attacks one crown attacks the other.⸺I know Count Almodovar—I was introduced to him by my old friend, Don Francisco Buccarelli:—I never shall forget dining with him at a kind of Table d’Hotes, in a tavern opposite the Escurial;—as chance would have it, many more illustrious characters dined with us that day; there was the Count, his wife’s cousin, and myself, on one side of the table;—Count Cobentzel, and Baron Reidesdel (who were then on their travels) and Duke de Chartres (who had just come from Paris) sat opposite to us—Monsieur de Sartine (who came in the Duke’s vis a vis) was at the foot of the table; and we put Buccarelli in the chair⸺we had an excellent dinner—the wine was good—and we toasted the Madrid beauties in bumpers of Packeretti—however, I was not so far gone but I can very well remember what Almodovar whispered in my ear, while _Cobentzel and Reidsdale_ were drinking Maxamilian Joseph of Bavaria’s health. Colonel (says he) _Il alte se volto Estremadura che molto_—I won’t translate it. I feel the respect due to Ambassadors.—But, will Ministry answer a plain question? I put it roundly, because I ask for a positive answer—Is there no treaty now on the tapis to cede Gibraltar, or Port Mahon?—I say, the neutrality of Spain is to be trucked for by the dismembring this country of its best possessions.—Here he proceeded to read variety of Gazettes, American News-papers, two or three Treaties, letters from gallant Officers in all parts of the world; accounts of Cl[i]nt[o]n’s retreat; transactions of Lord H[o]we, and Mons. D’Estaign; Alderman Oliver’s letter—affair at Rhode Island, &c. &c. &c. He went also into a string of similar surmises, recognized various intimates