I had no sooner read the just complaint of Mrs. Drumstick, but I received an urgent one from another of the fair sex, upon faults of more pernicious consequence:
"Mr. Bickerstaff,
"Observing that you are entered into a correspondence with Pasquin,[130] who is, I suppose, a Roman Catholic, I beg of you to forbear giving him any account of our religion, or manners, till you have rooted out certain misbehaviours even in our churches; among others, that of bowing, saluting, taking snuff, and other gestures. Lady Autumn made me a very low curtsy the other day from the next pew, and, with the most courtly air imaginable, called herself 'Miserable sinner.' Her niece soon after, in saying, 'Forgive us our trespasses,' curtsied with a gloating look at my brother. He returned it, opening his snuff-box and repeating yet a more solemn expression. I beg of you, good Mr. Censor, not to tell Pasquin anything of this kind, and to believe this does not come from one of a morose temper, mean birth, rigid education, narrow fortune, or bigotry in opinion, or from one in whom Time had worn out all taste of pleasure. I assure you, it is far otherwise, for I am possessed of all the contrary advantages; and hope, wealth, good humour, and good breeding, may be best employed in the service of religion and virtue; and desire you would, as soon as possible, remark upon the above-mentioned indecorums, that we may not longer transgress against the latter, to preserve our reputation in the former.
"Your humble Servant,
"Lydia."
The last letter I shall insert is what follows. This is written by a very inquisitive lady; and I think, such interrogative gentlewomen are to be answered no other way than by interrogation. Her billet is this:
"Dear Mr. Bickerstaff,
"Are you quite as good as you seem to be?
"Chloe."