July 13. Skelton Castle. Your picture has gone round the Table after supper—& yr. health after it, my invaluable friend!—even the Ladies, who hate grace in another, seemed struck with it in You—but Alas! you are as a dead Person—& Justice (as in all such Cases) is paid you in course—when thou returnest it will be rendered more sparingly—but I’ll make up all deficiences—by honouring You more than ever Woman was honourd by man—every good Quality That ever good heart possess’d—thou possessest my dear Girl; & so sovereignly does thy temper & sweet sociability, which harmonize all thy other properties make me thine, that whilst thou art true to thyself and thy Bramin—he thinks thee worth a world—& wd. give a World was he master of it, for the undisturbed possession of thee—Time and Chance are busy throwing this Die for me—a fortunate Cast, or two, at the most, makes our fortune—it gives us each other—& then for the World, I will not give a pinch of Snuff.—Do take care of thyself—keep this prospect before thy eyes—have a view to it in all yr. Transactions, Eliza,—In a word Remember You are mine—and stand answerable for all you say & do to me—I govern myself by the same Rule—& such a History of myself can I lay before you as shall create no blushes, but those of pleasure—’tis midnight—& so sweet Sleep to thee the remaining hours of it. I am more thine, my dear Eliza! than ever—but that cannot be—
July 14.
dining & feasting all day at Mr. Turner’s—his Lady a fine Woman herself, in love wth. your picture—O my dear Lady, cried I, did you but know the Original—but what is she to you, Tristram—nothing; but that I am in Love with her—et cætera——said She—no I have given over dashes—replied I——I verily think my Eliza I shall get this Picture set, so as to wear it, as I first purposed—abt. my neck—I do not like the place ’tis in—it shall be nearer my heart—Thou art ever in its centre—good night—
July 15—From home. (Skelton Castle) from 8 in the morning till late at Supper—I seldom have put thee off, my dear Girl—& yet to morrow will be as bad—
July 16.
for Mr. Hall has this Day left his Crasy Castle to come and sojourn with me at Shandy Hall for a few days—for so they have long christend our retired Cottage—we are just arrived at it & whilst he is admiring the premisses—I have stole away to converse a few minutes with thee, and in thy own dressing room—for I make every thing thine & call it so, before hand, that thou art to be mistress of hereafter. This Hereafter, Eliza, is but a melancholly term—but the Certainty of its coming to us, brightens it up—pray do not forget my prophecy in the Dedication of the Almanack—I have the utmost faith in it myself—but by what impulse my mind was struck with 3 Years—heaven whom I believe it’s author, best knows—but I shall see yr. face before—but that I leave to You—& to the Influence such a Being must have over all inferior ones—We are going to dine with the Arch Bishop[[33]] to morrow—& from thence to Harrogate for three days, whilst thou dear Soul art pent up in sultry Nastiness—without Variety or change of face or Conversation—Thou shalt have enough of both when I cater for thy happiness Eliza—& if an Affectionate husband & 400 pds. a year in a sweeter Vally than that of Jehosophat will do—less thou shalt never have—but I hope more—& were it millions ’tis the same—twould be laid at thy feet—Hall is come in in raptures with every thing—& so I shut up my Journal for to day & to morrow for I shall not be able to open it where I go—adieu my dear Girl—