Chapter LXXX: Letter LXXVIII: To Mr. S

October 22, 1778.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

HAVE you never beheld a bust with double--no, not double--but with two very different profiles--one crying, and one laughing?--That is just my situation at present:--for poor de Groote--huzza!--is presented to the Charter-house--by--bless him!--the good Archbishop of Canterbury;--but, by a standing law, he cannot be admitted till a fresh quarter begins--and, as he says, he may be dead by that time;--we will hope not;--well, this is the laughing side.--The Duke of Queensbury died this morning:--Alas! “I ne’er shall look upon his like again!”--the clearest head, and most humane of hearts:--I have in common with many--many--a heavy loss--I loved the good Duke--and not without reason:--he is gone to reap a reward--which St. Paul could not conceive in the flesh--and which, I will be bold to say, they both perfectly enjoy at this moment.--God of his mercy grant!--that thee and I--and all I love--yea--and all I know--may enter eternity with as promising hopes--and realize the happiness in store for such as the Duke of Queensbury!

Lord Lincoln died on his passage;--the news came last night; but he has left a son and daughter.

T---- is well--but still plagued with his uncouth kinsfolk.

Adieu, Yours, &c. &c.

I. SANCHO.

Kitty very poorly, the rest all well.