You did well to go to the Duke of Newcastle, who, I suppose, will have no
more levees; however, go from time to time, and leave your name at his
door, for you have obligations to him. Adieu.




LETTER CCIV

BATH, December 14, 1756.

MY DEAR FRIEND: What can I say to you from this place, where EVERY DAY IS
STILL BUT AS THE FIRST, though by no means so agreeably passed, as
Anthony describes his to have been? The same nothings succeed one another
every day with me, as, regularly and uniformly as the hours of the day.
You will think this tiresome, and so it is; but how can I help it? Cut
off from society by my deafness, and dispirited by my ill health, where
could I be better? You will say, perhaps, where could you be worse? Only
in prison, or the galleys, I confess. However, I see a period to my stay
here; and I have fixed, in my own mind, a time for my return to London;
not invited there by either politics or pleasures, to both which I am
equally a stranger, but merely to be at home; which, after all, according
to the vulgar saying, is home, be it ever so homely.

The political settlement, as it is called, is, I find, by no means
settled; Mr. Fox, who took this place in his way to his brother's, where
he intended to pass a month, was stopped short by an express, which he
received from his connection, to come to town immediately; and
accordingly he set out from hence very early, two days ago. I had a very
long conversation with him, in which he was, seemingly at least, very