get his grant completed before the general election.[1]
Enough has been said of that detestable transaction which ended in the death of Mr. Yorke.—I cannot speak of it without horror and compassion. To excuse yourself, you publicly impeach your accomplice; and to his mind, perhaps, the accusation may be flattery. But in murder you are both principals. It was once a question of emulation; and, if the event had not disappointed the immediate schemes of the closet, it might still have been a hopeful subject of jest and merriment between you.
This letter, my Lord, is only a preface to my future correspondence. The remainder of the summer shall be dedicated to your amusement. I mean now and then to relieve the severity of your morning studies, and to prepare you for the business of the day. Without pretending to more than Mr.
- ↑ It will appear, by a subsequent letter, that the Duke's precipitation proved fatal to the grant. It looks like the hurry and confusion of a young highwayman, who takes a few shillings, but leaves the purse and watch behind him.—And yet the Duke was an old offender.
