LETTER XIX.

TO THE SAME.

FROM MARTHA BLOUNT AND MR. POPE,

December 10, 1736.

I RESOLVE to write to you once before you come

to town, though you make ever so much haste, as I think both by inclination and necessity you will; and though I have nothing to say to you but to Mrs. Elliot, and nothing to say to her but about horses. Mr. Noell hears she no longer hires horses of the man she employed last year, therefore begs me to desire he may have her custom again. I hope this petition will operate soon, as I hope her devotion this Christmas will bring her hither, and that you will not be able to stay behind her. Lady Suffolk and Mr. Berkley are well, and in town: the King is expected on Sunday. Though there is so little in this lettter, you will take it not the less kindly, since it contains so great a truth as the assurance of being to you both a faithful and ever mindful servant,

M. BLOUNT.

I have hindered Mrs. B. from making her letter longer, and now find I have as little to say myself. But about Christmas time there is great plenty of good wishes sent about the kingdom, and I should be ashamed if Gosfield had not mine. It is a place I have been very happy in, and abounds with plenty, peace, and cheerful countenances. I doubt not at

this season all people round it are happy; God forbid any one in it should not! when it is considered that nothing has been done but by his ordination.

I am naturally led, from a Christian sentence, to think of Mrs. Elliot, for whose welfare of body and

mind I sincerely wish, not to say pray. I hope, as Mrs. B. does, that the motive she mentions cannot fail to bring her to town, and then you cannot stay long, if at all, behind. Believe, among all those who desire this, none does it more than

Your, etc.

MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS.

LETTER I.

DR. JONATHAN SWIFT TO MARTHA BLOUNT."

DEAR PATTY,

Dublin, Feb. 29, 1727-8. I AM told you have a mind to receive a letter from

me, which is a very undecent declaration in a young lady, and almost a confession that you have a mind to write to me; for as to the fancy of looking on me as a man sans consequence, it is what I will never understand. I am told likewise you grow every day younger, and more a fool, which is directly contrary to me, who grow wiser and older, and at this rate we shall never agree. I long to see you a London lady, where you are forced to wear whole clothes, and visit in a chair, for which you must starve next summer at Petersham, with a mantua out at the sides; and spunge once a week at our house, without ever inviting us in a whole season to a cow-heel at home. I wish you would bring Mr. Pope over with you when you come, but we will leave Mr. Gay to his Beggars and his Operas till he is able to pay his club. How will you pass this summer, for want of a squire to Ham-Common and Walpole's Lodge; for as to

a The direction is simply, " To Patty Blount."

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Richmond Lodge and Marble-hill, they are abandoned as much as Sir Spencer Compton: and Mr. Schabe's coach, that used to give you so many a setdown, is wheeled off to St. James's. You must be forced to get a horse, and gallop with Mrs. Jansen and Miss Bedier. Your greatest happiness is, that you are out of the chiding of Mrs. Howard and the Dean; but I suppose Mr. Pope is so just as to pay our arrears, and that you edify as much by him as by us, unless you are so happy that he now looks upon you as reprobate and a cast-away, of which I think he hath given me some hints. However, I would advise you to pass this summer at Kensington, where you will be near the court, and out of his jurisdiction; where you will be teazed with no lectures of gravity and morality, and where you will have no other trouble than to get into the mercer's books, and take up a hundred pounds of your principal for quadrille. Monstrous, indeed, that a fine lady, in the prime of life and gaiety, must take up with an antiquated dean, an old gentlewoman of fourscore, and a sickly poet. I will stand by my dear Patty against the world, if Teresa beats you for your good, and I will buy her a fine whip for the purpose. Tell me, have you been confined to your lodging this winter for want of chair-hire? [Do you know that this unlucky Dr. Delany came last night to the deanry, and being denied, without my knowledge, is gone to England this morning, and so I must send this by the post. I bought your opera to-day for six-pence, so small printed, that it will spoil my eyes. I ordered you to send me your edition, but now you may keep it till you get an opportunity.] Patty, I will tell you a blunder: I am writing to Mr. Gay, and had almost finished the letter; but by mistake I took up this instead of it, and so the six lines in a hook are all to him, and therefore you must read them to him, for I will not be at the trouble to write them over again.

My greatest concern in the matter is, that I am afraid I continue in love with you, which is hard after near six months absence. I hope you have done with your rash and other little disorders, and that I shall see you a fine young, healthy, plump lady; and if Mr. Pope chides you, threaten him that you will turn heretic. Adieu, dear Patty, and believe me to be one of your truest friends and humblest servants; and that, since I can never live in England, my greatest happiness would be to have you and Mr. Pope condemned, during my life, to live in Ireland, he at the deanery, and you, for reputation's sake, just at next door, and I will give you eight dinners a-week, and a whole half dozen of pint bottles of good French wine at your lodgings, a thing you could never expect to arrive at, and every year a suit of fourteen-penny stuff, that should not be worn out at the right side; and a chair costs but sixpence a jobb; and you shall have Catholicity as much as you please, and the Catholic Dean of St. Patrick's, as old again as I, for your confeffor. Adieu again, dear Patty.

THE ANSWER.

TO DR. SWIFT.

SIR, May 7, 1728. I AM very much pleased with your letter: but I

should have thought myself much more obliged, had you been less sincere, and not told me I did not owe the favour entirely to your inclination, but to an information that I had a mind to hear from you; and I mistrust you think even that as much as I deserve. If so, you really are not deserving of my repeated inquiries after you, and my constant good wishes and concern for your welfare, which merit some remem