officers, who are going to Flanders, don't quite like it; they are
afraid it should grow the fashion to fight, and that a pair of colours
should no longer be a sinecure. I am quite unhappy about poor Mr. Chute:
besides, it is cruel to find that abstinence is not a drug. If
mortification ever ceases to be a medicine, or virtue to be a passport
to carnivals in the other world, who will be a self-tormentor any
longer--not, my child, that I am one; but, tell me, is he quite
recovered?

[Footnote 1: This alludes to an engagement, which took place on the 8th
of February, near Bologna, between the Spaniards under M. de Gages, and
the Austrians under General Traun, in which the latter were successful.]

I thank you for King Theodore's declaration,[1] and wish him success
with all my soul. I hate the Genoese; they make a commonwealth the most
devilish of all tyrannies!

[Footnote 1: With regard to Corsica, of which he had declared himself
king. By this declaration, which was dated January 30, Theodore
recalled, under pain of confiscation of their estates, all the Corsicans
in foreign service, except that of the Queen of Hungary, and the Grand
Duke of Tuscany. (See vol. ii. p. 74.)]

We have every now and then motions for disbanding Hessians and
Hanoverians,[1] alias mercenaries; but they come to nothing. To-day the
party have declared that they have done for this session; so you will
hear little more but of fine equipages for Flanders: our troops are
actually marched, and the officers begin to follow them--I hope they
know whither! You know in the last war in Spain, Lord Peterborough[2]
rode galloping about to inquire for his army.