LETTERLV.TO MRS. C——.
Charles Street, Nov. 5, 1777.
NOW, whether to address—according to the distant, reserved, cold, mechanical forms of high-breeding—where polished manners, like a horse from the manage, prances fantastic—and, shackled with the rules of art, proudly despises simple nature;—or shall I, like the patient, honest, sober, long-ear’d animal, take plain Nature’s path, and address you according to my feelings?—My dear friend—you wanted to know the reason I had never addressed a line to you;—the plain and honest truth is, I thought writingat—was better than writingtoyou;—that’s one reason:—now a second reason is—I know my own weakness too well to encounter with your little friend—whom I fear as a critic—and envy as a writer:—another reason is—a case of conscience—which some time or other you may have explained:—reason the fourth—a secret—and so mustbe—till the blessed year 1797;—and then, if you will deign to converse with an old friend—you shall know all.—Kitty sends her respects to Nutts—and her duty to her godmother.—Billy looks wisely by turns—and will speak for himself—if you should ever come to town again.—The girls all improve in appetite. Mrs. Sancho is tolerably well—and I am yours very seriously,
I. SANCHO.
P. S. I wrote to my friend R——, and then made some modest demands upon your good-nature—There are a sort of people in the world (one or two in a large extent of country) rare enough to meet with—and you are one whom nature hath left entirely defenceless to the depredations of knaves;—for my part, I own I have no remorse when I tax your good-nature—which proceeds from your having obliged me so much—that I think with the street paupers—when they cry—“Good your Ladyship, give me something—you always used to remember your poor old woman!”—Well but to conclude—wecourtiers are all alive upon this great good news—the Queen, God bless her—safe;—another Princess—Oh the cake and cawdle!—Then the defeat of Washintub’s army—and the capture of Arnold and Sulivan with seven thousand prisoners;—thirteen counties return to their allegiance;—all this news is believed—the delivery of her Majesty is certain—pray God the rest may be as certain—that this cursed carnage of the human species may end—commerce revive—sweet social peace be extended throughout the globe—and the British empire be strongly knit in the never-ending bands of sacred friendship and brotherly love!—Her good Grace of P—— is just arrived:—the gardens would look as they were wont—but for you. But to conclude—the little dance (which I like because I made it)—I humbly beg you will make Jacky play—and amongst you contrive a figure.—The Dutchess of —— visits the Queen this evening—which being a piece of news you may credit—and of the utmost consequence—I close my very sensible decent epistle with—And so God bless you!—Pray tell Mr. K—— my thanksfor his obliging letter—and that I join him and all his friends in honest gladness—upon his brother’s account.—I fear, also, he has had, and still has, too much practice.—I have this opinion of him, that his humanity will ever be found equal to his skill—and that he will be a credit to his profession—as well as a blessing to his patients.—My humble respects and best wishes attend Miss —— and Messieurs B—— and S——, &c.
The grand news is not yet officially authenticated—as no express is yet arrived from the Howes—the Isis man of war, which is supposed to have the dispatches, not being got in;—but the K—— and Cabinet believe the news to be true, though brought by hear-say—at sea.