“I am not going to set sail yet; the ocean of fortune is rough, the bark of fortune light, the prosperous gale uncertain, but the Pilot must be smooth, steady and content, patient in storms, moderate and careful in sunshine, and easy in the turns of the wind, and changes of the times. Guess if these things be easily found? and without such a guide can I avoid the gulph of misfortune, the barking of envy, the deceits of the syrens, and the hypocrisy of Proteus? So I wait on the shore, scarce looking towards this land of promise, so few I find with whom I would risk the voyage. I would have wrote you a longer letter, if I had a frank, but careful of your sixpence, though regardless of your leisure, that consideration hinders me. I am at Mount Morris again.” [Page heading: “LIFE OF CICERO”] The duchess having commenced reading Dr. Conyers Middleton’s “Life of Cicero,” Elizabeth recommends a pamphlet called “Observations on Cicero,” written by Mr. Lyttelton,[165] but without his name being prefixed to it. She states, “Dr. Middleton compliments it in his preface slightly; it is as much a criticism as the Doctor’s is a panegyric of Tully’s action: it is a very little book, but I think wrote with great spirit and elegance.” [165] George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton. The following letter is from the Duchess of Portland early in June, but undated:-- “Monday morning. “MY DEAREST FIDGET, “You will be much surprised to receive so melancholy a letter from me after that strange medley you had last post, but yesterday morning I was told the Doctor had no hopes of my Papa; he hurt his leg some time ago, and Sergeant Dickens has had it in hand, and declared to Dr. Mead[166] he would go on no longer without another surgeon was called in, upon which Skipton was sent for, and what will be the result of their consultations to-day I dread to know; he has besides a jaundice and dropsy. He was out Friday night, and pretty well of Saturday night, and grew so much worse yesterday morning that he is not able to move. The Doctor was surprised to find such an alteration in a few hours. Oh! my dear Fidget, ’tis not possible to flatter oneself, God only knows what is best for us, therefore I am sensible I ought to be contented with what He is pleased to inflict upon us, but I cannot help my natural weakness. I can’t see to add any more, my heart and eyes are too full.” [166] Famous physician, writer on medicine, and antiquarian. [Page heading: DEATH OF THE EARL OF OXFORD] Here Mrs. Donnellan adds, “I have but one sad moment to tell my dear Fidget that my Lord Oxford[167] died to-day.” [167] He died in Dover Street, June 16, 1741. The next letter from the duchess is dated June 25-- “MY DEAREST FIDGET, “I owe you a thousand thanks for your kind letters, and if words were the only acknowledgement I could make, I should ever be bankrupt, but my affection is warm, and my fidelity will last as long as my life....