In Italy Suwarrow and ye Austrians have driven out the French; the Cis-Alpine district is returning to the dominion of its former possessors; dear, pretty Florence is restored to its mild sovereign. Lord Nelson has brought back the fugitive monarch to his capital, and Naples now exhibits a scene of revenge, more bloody than the Sicilian Vespers.[10] The hearts of Frenchmen are brought as trophies to a cruel people, who crouched in servile subjection whilst they were too abject to fight their own cause. Ly. Hamilton has not been remiss in adding her quota to the barbarity which enflames every breast. Rome is yet without its Pontiff, and for the happiness of a large portion of the natives of those happy climates it is to be hoped will for ever so remain, as no one can wish to see the restoration of a government founded upon the superstitions of mankind, and burthensome in itself. An expedition into Holland for the restoration of the Stadtholder has just been undertaken.[11] It commenced ill; a fort was taken with the loss of some officers and five hundred men. Since that the Dutch fleet has surrendered, whether voluntarily or by the treachery of its officers is yet a secret. The Duke of York is to go and take the command. I don’t know how his presence will inspire courage to those troops he absconded with so hastily but a few years back. The expense is said to be so enormous that the income tax, which, by-ye-bye, has fallen short of the calculation, will go to take a fifth, instead of a tenth, of our incomes in future. Left Bowood, Tuesday, ye 3rd; passed through a richly cultivated, well-built, and populous vale to Wincanton. Passed thro’ Longleat and Stourton; slept at the first town, and arrived here, Sherborne Castle, on Wednesday. It is an old Gothic mansion; the _corps de logis_ was built by Sir Walter Raleigh, who, if one may judge from oral tradition, seemed attached to the spot, as there is a venerable grove planted by his hand and honoured with his name. Upon his death his estates were confiscated, and granted by the narrow-minded pedant, who sacrificed to policy and intrigue his glorious life, to his infamous minion Somerset. Upon his fall they were bestowed upon the singular George Digby, Earl of Bristol,[12] whose adventures form some of the most diverting anecdotes in Clarendon’s history. It has since remained in the Digby family. On the opposite side of the lake are the ruins of the castle of Sherborne, held out by a lady of the family against the dismantling summons of Cromwell. The ground is classic; an eminence called Jerusalem Hill is crowned on the summit with a clump of firs planted by Pope. He was a frequent inmate, and the friend of an affectionate brother and sister, whose affection he has commemorated in an epitaph in Sherborne Church. [Sidenote: LORD WESTMORELAND]