sure very applicable.

Stop, stop! brave Prince, allay that generous flame;
Enough is given to England and to Fame.
Remember, Sir, you in the centre stand;
Europe's divided interests you command,
All their designs uniting in your hand.
Down from your throne descends the golden chain
Which does the fabric of our world sustain,
That once dissolved by any fatal stroke,
The scheme of all our happiness is broke.

Adieu! my dear Sir; pray for peace!


_FRENCH ACTORS AT CLIFDEN--A NEW ROMAN CATHOLIC MIRACLE--LADY MARY
WORTLEY._

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

HOUGHTON, _Sept._ 7, 1743.

My letters are now at their _ne plus ultra_ of nothingness; so you may
hope they will grow better again. I shall certainly go to town soon, for
my patience is worn out. Yesterday, the weather grew cold; I put on _a
new_ waistcoat for its being winter's birthday--the season I am forced
to love; for summer has no charms for me when I pass it in the country.

We are expecting another battle, and a congress at the same time.
Ministers seem to be flocking to Aix la Chapelle: and, what will much