will be better,
Now the Dean

long miles, fifty times wearier; the 6th, to Cavan,
five miles, weariest of all: yet I baited every day,
and dined where I lay; and this very day I am
weary, and my shin bad, yet I never looked on it.
I have been now the third day at Cavan, the doc-
tor's Canaan, the dirtiest place I ever saw, with the
worst wife and daughter, and the most cursed sluts
and servants on this side Scotland. Let the doctor
do his part.---" Not quite so bad, I assure you,
although his teal was spoiled in the roasting: and
I can assure you that the dirt of our streets is not
quite over his shoes, so that he can walk dry. If
he would wear golashes, as I do, he would have
no cause of complaint. As for my wife and daugh-
ter, I have nothing to say to them, and therefore
nothing to answer for them.
I hope when the
weather mends, that every thing
except the two before mentioned.
is to proceed."---In short, but not literally in short,
I got hither, not safe and sound, but safe and sore.
Looking in my equipage I saw a great packet that
weighed a pound: I thought it was iron, but found
it Spanish liquorice, enough to serve this whole
county who had coughs for nine years. My beast
told me it was you forced him to put it all up. Pray
go sometimes to the deanery, and see how the world
goes there. The doctor is a philosopher above all
economy, like philosopher Webber. I am drawing
him into a little cleanliness about his house. The
cook roasted this day a fine teal to a cinder; for the
wife and daughter said, they did not know but I
loved it well roasted. The doctor, since his last
illness, complains that he has a straitness in his
breast, and a difficulty in breathing. Pray. give

him your advice, and I will write to your brother Helsham this post for his. Write me no news of the club, and get one of them to frank your letters, that they may be worth reading." Dear madam, I beg you may rather think me like the devil, or my wife, than Webber. I do assure you that my house, and all about it, is clean in potentia. If you do not understand so much logick, Mr. Harrison* will tell you; but I suppose you ignorant of nothing but doing any thing wrong. Be pleased to send me one of your fattest pigeons in a post. letter, and I will send you in return a fat goose, under cover to one of the club. The Dean may say what he pleases of my ay con O my; but I assure you I have this moment in my house, a quarter of fat beef, a fat sheep, two mallards, a duck, and a teal, beside some fowl in squadrons. I wish you were here. Ask the Dean if I have not fine ale, table drink, good wine, and a new pair of tables. Now hear the Dean."---It grows dark, and I cannot read one syllable of what the doctor last writ; but conclude all to be a parcel of lies. How are eldest master and miss? with your clerk and schoolboy? So God bless you all. If the doctor has any thing more to say, let him conclude, as I do, with assurance that I am ever, with great affection, yours, &c.

Read as you can, for I believe I have made forty mistakes. Direct for me at doctor Sheridan's in Cavan; but let a clubman frank it, as I do this. Mr. Rochfort is my franker: yours may be general or some other (great beast of a) hero. My

* Mrs. Whiteway's eldest son. D. S.

two puppies have, in the whole journey, over-puppied their puppyships. Most abominable bad firing; nothing but wet turf.---" The devil a lie I writ, nor will I write to the end of my life. May all happiness attend you and your family. I am, with all good wishes and affection,

Your most obedient humble servant,

THOMAS SHERIDAN.

"You were plaguy saucy, who did not like my nuts: I do assure you my dog Lampey cracks them; the Dean is my witness."

SIR,

FROM MRS. WHITEWAY,

NOV. 8, 1735.

I KNOW the moment you took this letter into

your hand what you said, which was pox on all Irish writers, and Irish letters. It is very little trouble I am going to give you, only be pleased to answer the following questions. How does your leg do? How is your head? How is your stomach? How many days were you on the road? How did you lie? How does Dr. Sheridan? How do you like Cavan? And how do all the good victuals Dr. Sheridan promised you turn out? And now, sir, I beg you will be pleased to suppose, that I began my letter by entreating the favour of hearing from you; and if that is too great an honour for

* A cant expression, much used in those times upon all occasions, and here ridiculed. D. S.

me,

1

me, that you will order somebody else to do it. Dr. Sheridan would give sixpence I would ask who, rise off his chair, make me a low bow, and uncover, to have the opportunity of telling me.

Now to write politely, when I change my subject, I always break off, and begin a new paragraph.

Mr. Waller has printed an advertisement, offering ten guineas reward to any person that will discover the author of a paragraph, said to be the case of one Mr. Throp. I do not know whether you heard any thing of such an affair before you left town, but I think it is said there is some trial to be about it before the House of Commons, either next week, or the week following. I beg you will not leave your papers and letters on the table, as you used to do at the deanery, for boys and girls and wives will be peeping; particularly be pleased to take care of mine. It is certain I write correctly, and with a great deal of method; but however I am afraid of Curll. Dr. Sheridan has my free leave to read this, on condition he burns it instantly; but first let him take notice of all the compliments I make him. May be you imagine that if you answer this, you will be no more plagued with my letters; but I have learned from Molly* never to have done with my demands on you: therefore write, or not write, (unless you command otherwise) you shall hear once a week from, sir,

Your most obedient and

most obliged humble servant, MARTHA WHITEWAY.

* Miss Harrison. D. S.

Molly

Molly is just come from the deanery; every thing is in good order. She saw Mrs. Ridgeway there. Young Harrison and his sister present you their most obedient respects.

FROM AN UNKNOWN LADY.

HON. SIR,

CASTLETOWN, NOV. 9, 1735.

EXCUSE a stranger's address; nothing but the opinion I have of your generosity and humanity could encourage me to lay before you the enclosed poem, being the product of a woman's pen *. *. I see the severe strokes you lay on the faulty part of our sex, from which number I do not pretend to exempt myself: yet venture to desire your judgment of this little unfinished piece, which I send you without giving myself the leisure to correct it, willing that your hand should bestow the last beauties. The muse is my best companion: and if you compassionate the desolate, permit me this satisfaction, since a book and a lonely walk are all the gratifications I afford my senses, though not dulled with years. I must intreat you to throw away two or three lines in answer to this; and beg leave to conceal my name, till I have the honour of writing to you again; which if you will allow, I shall trouble you with a view of several sketches that I writ occasionally, and will no longer conceal the name of, honoured sir,

VOL. XIII.

Your most humble servant,