The kindness of you and your two friends exceedingly embarrasses me.—I would not wish to appear to any one either arrogant, vain, or conceited;—no—nor servile, mean, or selfish:—I grant your motive is friendly in the extreme—and those of your companions as nobly generous;—but—but what?—Why this—and the truth—were I rich, I would accept it, and say “Thank ye,” when I chose it;—as I am poor, I do not chuse to say “Thank ye”—but to those I know and respect. You must forgive me—and call it the error of African false principle—call it any thing but coldness and unfeeling pride, which is in fact ingratitude in a birth-day suit.—As to the grand Turk of Norfolk, if it comes—we will devour it—and toast Don S—— and the unknown giver.—Thou, my S——, hast (oh! prostrate, and thank the Giver) a noble and friendly heart, susceptible of the best, the greatest feelings. H—— is thy twin-brother—perhaps he has more fire in his composition:—Woman apart, he is a glorious fellow; * * * * apart—alas! alas! alas! * * * * * * * * apart, what might not be hoped, expected, from * * * * * * *! So the poor boy flew his kite—but the tail was lost.—Poor H—— has a book and a fair one to manage;—ticklish—very ticklish subjects—either:—and your worship has a book to castrate—and a Fandango to dance—with a Tol de le rol, de le rol.—Your reason for postponing your journey to town is wisely great, or greatly wise;—it does you honour, because it is founded in equity. I am glad to hear the Rev. Mr. S—— is better.—I love and venerate that good man:—not because he begat you, but for his own great parts and many virtues—by the bye, I know more of him than you think for.—Tell brother O—— I am glad to hear he is well, and Mrs. O—— better;—and tell him the name of the Bishop’s lady’s dog (that was lost, and has been missing these two months) is Sherry[15]. When you see Mr. S——, the good, the friendly, generous Mr. S——, my and mine make the respects of—we wish him many happy years and his family.—To Mr. G—— and his amiable daughter, say all that’s right for me. And now to conclude with thanks, &c. &c. I and we—that’s spouse and self—remain, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c.
I. SANCHO.
[15] Mr. O—— had promised Mr. Sancho two months before to send him immediately a present of Sherry.
LETTER CXXVIII.
TO MR. M——.
Charles Street, Jan. 17, 1780.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I RECEIVED, as you taught me to expect last week, a very fine * * *, and after it as kind a letter—in name of a Mr. E—— W—— of Norfolk, near Houghton-Hall, &c.—I have bespoke a frank, and mean to thank him—as I also thank you, whom I look upon as the grand friendly mover of the generously handsome act.—You have your reward, for you had a pleasure in doing it;—and Mr. W—— has his, if he believes me honest.—Could I any way retaliate, I should feel lighter—that’s pride, I own it. Humility should be the poor man’s shirt—and thankfulness his girdle;—be it so—I do request you to thank Mr. W—— for me, and tell him he has the prayers—not of a raving mad whig—nor fawning deceitful tory—but of a coalblack, jolly African, who wishes health and peace to every religion and country throughout the ample range of God’s creation!—and believes a painter may be saved at the last day, maugre all the Miss G——’s and widows in this kingdom. I have done nothing in the shoe affair yet—for which I ought to ask poor C——’s pardon as well as yours:—the rogue has left the court, and gone to live in Fish-market, Westminster bridge;—I shall ferret him out, and make him bless his old master.
I inclose your receipts in proof of my honesty—a rare virtue as times go!—M—— has wrote to you—left his letter with me—and I, like a what you please, let it slip into the fire—with a handful of company he had no business to be amongst:—he shall write you another—you will both be angry—but you will both forgive, as good Christians ought, accidents.—I am sorry. I will say no more, but God keep you, and direct your goings;
Yours, &c. &c.
I. SANCHO.