262.
To his Stepmother.
London, August 18th, 1775.
Dear Madam,
HIS DOG THE COMFORT OF HIS LIFE.
*Will you excuse my present litterary business as an excuse for my not writing? I think you will be in the wrong if you do; since I was just as idle before. At all events, however, it is better to say three words, than to be totally a dumb dog. A propos of dog, but not of dumb, Bath (a foolish name enough) is the comfort of my life; pretty, impertinent, fantastical, all that a young Lady of fashion ought to be; I flatter myself that our passion is reciprocal.* Have you seen Mr. Eliot very lately? He left us about ten days ago to make a visit in Glostershire, and perhaps may have looken upon you at Bath: we expect him again very soon, and shall live together as we did before in a very pleasant society for the time of year. Next month I believe Mrs. P. and myself shall pay a short visit to Sheffield place. Deyverdun, from whom I heard the other day, desires his Compliments and best wishes to you.
You will be surprized and concerned to hear, as I did last week by a letter from Mr. Dawkes at St. Omers, that poor Pitman is dead. I know no other particulars about it. Adieu.
Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.