into its natural corpulency again; and there is a new field for speculation! But I am, luckily, at the end of my paper.

LETTER CCLXV.

Arlington Street, March 5th, 1777.

My last has already told you, I hope, that I am entirely recovered. You shall believe, if you please, that a moment of bootikins weakened you; but allow me to be certain that above three years of experience has demonstrated that they do not weaken me; and as to all reasonings of the Italian physicians, why, they are still more ignorant than ours. I shall not argue with them or you, for I have no convert-making zeal. I content myself with my own judgment and experience for my own use, and it is not reasonable to expect that others should see truth with my eyes. It has rarely happened to me to think with the majority, and I have so much respect for the plural number as not to dispute with them. There never were more against me than in our present politics. I have kept my sentiments pretty much to myself, but nothing has made me change my opinion. At present, the aspect is not as if I had been totally in the wrong. The campaign in America has lost a great deal of its florid complexion, and General Washington is allowed by both

sides not to be the worst general in the field. The Stocks are grown positive that we shall have a French war. That was so self-evident, that I should be ashamed of bragging I had always foreseen it. A child might foretell many of the consequences. I leave it to those who would not foresee to excuse themselves as they can.

The Gazettes will tell you as much as you are allowed to know or believe. If you do not understand them, you will not be singular. The time is coming, I doubt, when Truth will write a more legible hand. In one word, the retreat of the Americans seems to have been wise; you will find they will fight and have fought, and that, when we believed Philadelphia was gone, General Howe has been obliged to contract his quarters. I should think less than unlimited submission would content us at present; and I leave you to judge whether France will be omitted in the negotiation, and whether she will enjoin the Congress to be very tractable. I hope there will be a little more wisdom in making the peace than there was in making the war; but they who make the one, do not always consider that they may not be equally masters to make the other.

Two old

There is scarcely anything of private news. persons that you remember are dead, Sir Thomas Ro

* Lord George Germain declared in the House of Commons, when Secretary of State, that he would be content with nothing under the unlimited submission of America.

binson and Lady Shadwell;+ she lived to ninetysix. The Duke of Norfolk, but two years younger, is recovered from a dangerous illness. Lady Chesterfield § has had a stroke of palsy, but may linger

some time longer. I can only talk in

In short, my dear sir, you and common of a few Methusalems,

cock and hen; for, as to the travelling boys that you get acquainted with en passant, I do not. I have done with the world, except parting with it in form; and chiefly pass my time with a few acquaintance or alone at Strawberry Hill, where I never want amusement. My old age is as agreeable as I desire it: oppressed with no misfortunes, disappointments, or infirmities, for I am determined to consider the gout as a remedy that only makes my

* Sir Thomas Robinson, of Rokeby in Yorkshire, who, on account of his stature, was commonly called "Long Sir Thomas," and also to distinguish him from the diplomatist, Sir Thomas Robinson, afterwards Lord Grantham. As he died without issue, the title devolved to his next brother. Two days after his death, his fourth brother, Dr. Richard Robinson, Archbishop of Armagh, was created Baron Rokeby of Armagh. -ED.

† Widow of Sir John Shadwell, the physician, with whom she had visited Florence, where they became acquainted with Sir Horace Mann, and also with Walpole. Sir John was a spectator of the great eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 1737, and published an account of it in the Philosophical Transactions. He was the only son of Shadwell, the dramatic poet, and filled the situation of physician to Queen Anne, George I. and George II.; by the former of whom he was knighted.—ED.

Edward Howard, ninth Duke of Norfolk. He died on the 20th of September, at the great age of ninety-two.-ED.

§ Melusina Schulembourg, Countess of Walsingham, niece of the Duchess of Kendal, and widow of the celebrated Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. She died in September, 1778.

liberty more welcome; with a fortune as ample as I wish either for pleasing myself or for doing some kindnesses; indifferent to pleasures that would be ridiculous, and encumbered with no glory or vanity that would impose restraint or reserve on me. I enjoy the remnant with cheerfulness, and think I shall lay it down with no more regret than what must attend parting with what is not disagreeable. I am exceedingly thankful for the happiness of my lot, and own it has been far greater than I should have dared to ask. Can I, then, but be content when it shall terminate? This is the thirty-seventh year of our correspondence: we are the Orestes and Pylades of letter-writers, yet I wish our meeting had left us less to boast! Adieu!

P.S. I must add a curious story, which I believe will surprise your Italian surgeons, as much as it has amazed the faculty here. A sailor, who had broken his leg, was advised to communicate his case to the Royal Society. The account he gave was, that, having fallen from the top of the mast and fractured his leg, he had dressed it with nothing but tar and oakum, and yet in three days was able to walk as well as before the accident. The story at first appeared quite incredible, as no such efficacious qualities were known in tar, and still less in oakum; nor was a poor sailor to be credited on his own bare assertion of so wonderful a cure. The society very reasonably demanded a fuller relation, and, I suppose, the corroboration of evidence. Many doubted whether the leg had been really broken.

That part of the story had been amply verified.

Still

it was difficult to believe that the man had made use of no other applications than tar and oakum; and how they should cure a broken leg in three days, even if they could cure it at all, was a matter of the utmost wonder. Several letters passed between the society and the patient, who persevered in the most solemn asseverations of having used no other remedies, and it does appear beyond a doubt that the man speaks truth. It is a little uncharitable, but I fear there are surgeons who might not like this abbreviation of attendance and expense. But, on the other hand, you will be charmed with the plain honest simplicity of the sailor: in a postscript to his last letter he added these words, "I forgot to tell your honours that the leg was a wooden one." Was there ever more humour? What would one have given to have been present, and seen the foolish faces of the wise assembly! I am an unworthy member of that learned body, and never attend their meetings, which I now regret; I should have been paid for many dull hours: but I never had patience for such solemn assemblies, and have neglected that of the Arts and Sciences, as well as the Royal. I shut myself entirely out of the Antiquarian Society and Parliament, the archiepiscopal seats of folly and knavery.