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Eighteenth Century Post-Bag
number (which I conclude you have seen), made of colours. . . .
Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu to her Husband.
Tunbridge, September, 1751.
This place continues to encrease in company. We have crowds, and very little amusement; and foreigners, and very little variety. The Duke of Newcastle was at a ball last night, given by Mr. Connor, to the politest part of the company. The busy statesman was written on his brow; he whispered to the foreign ministers with all the seriousness of a negoci-ator, though I verily believe he was only talking of Lewes races. Sir Thomas Robinson was no less embarrassed with the business of doing the honours to the secretary of state, than the secretary of state with doing the business of the nation. There are some reflections and characters in La Bruyere, which would have fitted them both, but far be it from me to quote them in a letter to travel by the post. We expect these goddesses, the Gunnings; and Sir Thomas Robinson, after being master of the ceremonies to the French ambassador, and our secretary of state, proposes to be gallant to these fair dames.
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