N. B. A very short P—— S——.
LETTER XXXV.
TO MR. R——.
June 25, 1776.
YOU had a pleasant day for your journey—and after five or six miles ride from town—you left the dust behind you;—of course the road and the country also improved as you drew nearer B——. I will suppose you there—and then I will suppose you found Mrs. C—— well in health, and the better for the preceding day’s motion;—she and Miss C—— meet you with the looks of a Spring-morning—I see you meet in fancy;—I wish I could see you in reality;—but of that hereafter.—I want to know how Mrs. C—— does—and what Miss C—— does;—what you intend to do—and what Mr. S—— will never do.—This letter is a kind of much-ado-about—what—I must not say nothing—because the ladies are mentioned in it.—Mr. and Mrs. B—— have a claim to my best respects.—Pray say what’s decent for me—and to the respectable table also—beginning with my true friend Mrs. C——, and then steering right and left—ending at last with your worship. Tell Mrs. C—— that Kitty is as troublesome as ever; that Billy gets heavier and stronger.—Mrs. Sancho remains, thank God, very well—and all the rest ditto.—Let me know how you all do—and how brother O—— does.—As to news, all I hear is about Wilkes;—he will certainly carry his point—for Administration are all strongly in his interest:—betts run much in his favor:—for my part, I really think he will get it—if he can once manage so—as to gain the majority.—I am, my dear R——, yours—(much more than Wilkes’s—or indeed any man’s, O——’s excepted) in love and zeal,
Ever faithfully,
I. SANCHO.
LETTER XXXVI.
TO MR. STERNE.
July, 1776.
REVEREND SIR,
IT would be an insult to your humanity (or perhaps look like it) to aplogize for the liberty I am taking.—I am one of those people whom the vulgar and illiberal call “Negurs.”—The first part of my life was rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family who judged ignorance the best and only security for obedience.—A little reading and writing I got by unwearied application.—The latter part of my life has been—through God’s blessing, truly fortunate, having spent it in the service of the best families in the kingdom.—My chief pleasure has been books.—Philanthropy I adore.—How very much, good Sir, am I (amongst millions) indebted to you for the character of your amiable uncle Toby!—I declare, I would walk ten miles in the dog-days, to shake hands with the honest corporal.—Your Sermons have touched me to the heart, and I hope have amended it, which brings me to the point.—In your tenth discourse, page seventy-eight, in the second volume—is this very affecting passage:—“Consider how great a part of our species—in all ages down to this—have been trod under the feet of cruel and capricious tyrants, who would neither hear their cries, nor pity their distresses.—Consider slavery—what it is—how bitter a draught—and how many millions are made to drink it!”—Of all my favourite authors, not one has drawn a tear in favour of my miserable black brethren—excepting yourself, and the humane author of Sir George Ellison.—I think you will forgive me;—I am sure you will applaud me for beseeching you to give one half-hour’s attention to slavery, as it is at this day practised in our West Indies.—That subject, handled in your striking manner, would ease the yoke (perhaps) of many;—but if only of one—Gracious God!—what a feast to a benevolent heart!—and, sure I am, you are an Epicurean in acts of charity.—You, who are universally read, and as universally admired—you could not fail.—Dear Sir, think in me you behold the uplifted hands of thousands of my brother Moors.—Grief (you pathetically observe) is eloquent;—figure to yourself their attitudes;—hear their supplicating addresses!—Alas!—you cannot refuse.—Humanity must comply—in which hope I beg permission to subscribe myself,