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Rh not long ago, that my motto was “Nil admirari,” and that I was determined to combat all their cloud-capped notions about their country, shake every idea that tends to set one race above another, or promote national distinctions. His lordship said I should have enough to do, but we have agreed much better ever since.

A morning visit from the fastidious genius of Strawberry Hill elicited some of his usual free and forcible remarks upon the public characters of a previous day.

“December 29th, 1787.—Mr. Horace Walpole, while he sat with me this morning, mentioned a singular anecdote relative to the late Mr. West, whose rage for collecting varieties was such, that what he could not otherwise procure he stole. He was one of the executors to Lord Oxford (Harley), and is thought, on very good grounds, to have secreted a great many curious letters and papers belonging to that statesman.

“It is well known that all the proceedings against Lord Oxford by the House of Commons were very suddenly stopped. This was effected by Harley’s writing a letter to the Duke of Marlborough, reminding him that he (Harley) had in his hands authentic proofs of the Duke having been in treaty with the Pretender in order to seat him on the throne. The letter was carried by Lord Duplin to the Duke, whom Duplin found walking on the Pantiles at Tunbridge Wells almost in a state of dotage. When he received it, he burst into tears, and very soon afterwards the prosecution was stopped. This