"But what is to become of Nosti?
Faithful to his Grumkow, to his Seckendorf--to his pair of sheep-stealers, poor dog.

But if trouble rise;--oh, at least do not hang me, ye incomparable pair!"-- THE HOTHAM DESPATCHES.
Slave Nosti's terrors, could he see behind the scenes, are without foundation! the tremendous Hotham Negotiation, all ablaze at that Charlottenburg Dinner, is sunk low enough into the smoking state, threatening to go out altogether.

Smoke there may still be, perceptible vestiges of smoke; which indeed, for a long time, fitfully continued: but, at the time while Nosti, quaking in every joint of him, writes these terrors, Hotham perceives that his errand is vain; that properly there has as good as extinction supervened.

April 3d was the flame-point; which lasted in its brightness only for a few days or hours.

April is not gone, or half gone, when flaming has quite ceased, and the use of bellows, never so judicious, is becoming desperate: and long before the end of May, no red is to be seen in the affair at all, and the very bellows are laid down.
Here--are the epochs: riddled out of such a mass of extinct rubbish as human nature seldom had to deal with;--here are certain extracts in a greatly condensed state, from the authentic voluminous Hotham Despatches and Responses;--which may conveniently interrupt the Nosti Babblement at this point.
TO MY LORD TOWNSHEND AT LONDON: Excellency Hotham LOQUITUR (in a greatly condensed form).
BERLIN, 12th APRIL, 1730.