MY good friend, take my thanks for your kind attention;—and, believe me, I am exceedingly mortified at being thus thrust forward in the public prints.—You may observe, by what has happened to me, how very difficult it is to do even a right thing, so as to escape uneasiness.—Trust me, this same letter (though wrote, I dare say, with the kindest intention imaginable) will do me hurt in the opinion of many;—I therefore repeat, I like it not—and dare own to my friend R—— it hurts my pride.—You may laugh—but it’s truth.—The drawing was gone to my friend S——, but I recovered it in time.—Hope the ladies are well—and that it will amuse them for a few moments. The young man who invented the design is no artist—but I think he has genius.
LETTER LXIV.
TO MISS C——.
May 14, 1778.
WHAT terms shall I find to express my gratitude to the obliging, the friendly Miss C——, for the pleasure we enjoyed from the contents of the best letter that has been wrote this good year?—You, who delight to please, will also feel high satisfaction in knowing you have succeeded.—We hope the change of weather has had no ill effect upon our friend—and that she will adhere to her promise in remembering how ill she has been—and that it is too probable any cold got by over-exertion or fatigue may occasion a relapse. We have had much thunder and rain this morning—and, if old saws say true, we are to expect a continuance of about thirty-seven days good ducking weather;—we will leave it to the all-wise Disposer of events, with this comfortable reflection—that whatever he wills—is best.—We are happy to hear such an account of the ——; she especially, as very likely a good course of fatigue, sweetened with gain, may contribute as much to her health as her pleasure, and re-establish her perfectly.—We have nothing stirring in the news way, or any other way:—the town is literally empty, saving a few sharks of both sexes, who are too poor to emigrate to the camps or watering-places, and so are forced to prey upon one another in town.—I protest, it is to me the most difficult of things to write to one of your female geniuses;—there is a certain degree of cleverality (if I may so call it), an easy kind of derangement of periods, a gentleman-like—fashionable—careless—seesaw of dialogue—which I know no more of than you do of cruelty.—I write as I think—foolishly—and you write well—why?—because you think well.—So much for praise—compliment—flattery, &c.—My respects attend Mr. B—— and Mrs. S—— and Mrs. ——. Tell Miss A——s, one of us will come to see her—perhaps.—I have received a kind letter from my good friend the doctor—and one also for the surgeon to the guards, dated New York, June 12:—he thinks the commissioners might have saved themselves the trouble, as they are like to come back just as wise as they went.—The Panton-Street good folks are well, for what I know—not having seen them since I last had the honor of addressing Mrs. C——. Adieu.—Our best respects—with Kitty’s and Billy’s in particular—attend Monsieur Nuts[6];—pray tell him so—with all civility;—he deserves it on the score of his own merits—were it not even so—yet surely, I think, we should regard him for the sake of our friend.
Mrs. Sancho joins me, in every thing to Self and Co.
Yours, dear Miss C——,
with zeal and esteem,
IGN. SANCHO.
[6] A favourite Spaniel.