Writing from Sandleford on July 25 to Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Montagu narrates the sad death of Lady Essex, carried away at the early age of nineteen by puerperal fever and throat disease. She was the daughter of Lady Frances Williams, who was bowed down with this affliction, added to the terrible lunacy of her husband. Mrs. Carter was at Bristol drinking the waters for her constant violent headaches. At the end of the letter we read-- “I am glad you agree with me in detestation of Voltaire’s Optimism. Are not you provoked that such an animal calls itself a Philosopher? What pretence can he have to philosophy who has not that fear of God which is the beginning of wisdom? This creature is a downright rebel to his God. Some good may arise indeed from the division of Satan’s household; Voltaire directly opposes Lord Bolingbroke and those who affirm whatever is is right, and that there wants not a future state to make the system just.” [Page heading: “CALVES PLUCK WATER”] Lady Medows writes that her appetite has been mended by drinking “Calves Pluck water!” [Page heading: HARLEYFORD] On August 3 Mrs. Montagu thanks Lady Barbara Montagu for “the great favour you have done me in behalf of Mr. Burke,” but what that favour was I know not. The letter proceeds thus-- “I conducted Mrs. Pitt to Maidenhead Bridge on Tuesday, and on Wednesday dined at Mrs. Clayton’s[248] at Harleyford.[249] I think it the most agreeable situation I have seen on the Thames, I mean as a place of residence, every object speaks peace and plenty, the silver Thames glides at the foot of their garden, lofty trees crown the summit, they have fine prospects, sweet lawns, fine cornfields and distant villages.... I could not get permission from Mr. Montagu to stay a day or two, but had barely leave for a dining visit; to my great mortification, my Landlord at the Bridge told me that to go by Marlow would carry me 8 or 9 miles out of the Road, so I gave up my scheme, but met Mr. Amyand, who was travelling through Maidenhead town: he jumped out of his post-chaise, got into the coach to tell me all the news of the town, and on my complaining of my disappointment in regard to Mrs. Clayton, he assured me if I would go two miles out of my road I should find myself on the bank of the river opposite Mrs. Clayton’s house, that then I might go on board a flat-bottom’d boat and invade her territories. I followed his directions, but as my coach could not pass the river, I proposed only to drink a dish of Chocolate, walk round her gardens, and proceed to Reading. She kindly desired to carry me thither early in the afternoon, said she would get Mrs. Southwell[250] of the party, that my coach should go on to Reading and I should find my horses refreshed and ready to set forward for Sandleford: no magical wand could have made a metamorphosis more to my advantage than converting the rose Parlour at the Inn in