LETTERXCVIII.TO MRS. C——.
Charles Street, Aug. 25, 1779.
MA CHERE AMIE,
IN the visions of the night—Behold I fancied that Mrs. Sancho was in Suffolk—that she saw strange places—fine sights—and good people—that she was at B—— amongst those I love and honor—that she was charmed and enraptured with some certain good folks who shall be nameless—that she was treated, caressed, and well pleased—that she came home full of feasts, kindness, and camps—and in the conclusion dunned me for a whole month to return some certain people thanks—for what?—why, for doing as they ever do—contrive to make time and place agreeable—truly agreeable to those who are so lucky to fall in their way: in truth, so much has been said, and description has ran so high, that, now I am awake, I long for just such a week’s pleasure. But time andchance are against me.—I awake to fears of invasion, to noise, faction, drums, soldiers, and care:—the whole town has now but two employments—the learning of French—and the exercise of arms—which is highly political—in my poor opinion—for should the military fail of success—which is not impossible—why, the ladies must take the field, and scold them to their ships again.—The wits here say our fleet is outlawed—others have advertised it—the republicans teem with abuse, and the K—g’s friends are observed to have long faces—every body looks wiser than common—the cheating shop-counter is deserted, from the gossiping door-threshold—and every half-hour has its fresh swarm of lies.—What’s to become of us? “We are ruined and sold!” is the exclamation of every mouth—the monied man trembles for the funds—the landholder for his acres—the married men for their families—old maids—alas! and old fusty batchelors—for themselves. For my part, I can be no poorer—I have no quarrel to the Romish religion—and so that you come to town in health and spirits, and occupy the old spot—so that the camp at Cavenhambreaks not up to the prejudice of Johnny O——, and my worthy R—— is continued clerk at ——: in short, let those I love be uninjured in their fortunes, and unhurt in their persons—God’s will be done! I rest perfectly satisfied, and very sincerely and cordially,
Dear Madam, Yours,
and my sweet little Miss C——’s
most obedient
and obliged servant,
I. SANCHO.
I should have said a deal about thanks and your kindness—but I am not at all clear it would please you.—Mrs. Sancho certainly joins me in every good wish—the girls are well—and William thrives—our best respects attend Mr. B—— and his good Lady—Mr. and Mrs. S——. Adieu!
Pray make Mr. William Sancho’s and my compliments acceptable to Nutts.—We hope he is well, and enjoys this fine weather unplagued by flies, and unbitten by fleas.