Chapter LI: Letter L: To Mr. M

September 3, 1777.

I FEEL it long since I heard from you--very long since I saw you--and three or four days back had some notion, I should never, in this paltry world, see thee again--but (thanks to the Father of Mercies!) I am better, and have a higher relish of health and ease, from contrasting the blessings with the pains I have endured.--Would to God you could say that your dizzy dismal headachs were flown to the moon, or embarked for Lapland--there to be tied up in a witch’s bag--and sold to Beelzebub with a cargo of bad winds--religious quarrels--politics--my gout--and our American grievances!--But what are you about in your last (where you dropt the candid friend and assumed the flatterer)?--You hinted as if there was a chance of seeing you in Charles Street: I wish it much.--My friend, I have had a week’s gout in my hand, which was by much too hard for my philosophy.--I am convinced, let the Stoics say what they list--that pain is an evil;--in short, I was wishing for death--and little removed from madness--but (thank Heaven)! I am much better--my spirits will be mended if I hear from you--better still to see you.--I find it painful to write much, and learn that two hands are as necessary in writing as eating.--You see I write, like a lady, from one corner of the paper to the other.--My respects--and love--and admiration--and compliments--to Mrs. ----, and Mrs. and Miss ----. Tell M----l, he kept his word in calling to see us before he left town!--I hope--confound the ink!--what a blot! Now don’t you dare suppose I was in fault--no, Sir, the pen was disabled--the paper worse--there was a concatenation of ill-sorted chances--all--all--coincided to contribute to that fatal blot--which has so disarranged my ideas--that I must perforce finish before I had half disburthened my head and heart:--but is N---- a good girl?--and how does my honest George do? Tell Mrs. H---- what you please in the handsome way of me.--Farewell, I will write no more nonsense this night--that’s flat.

IGN. SANCHO.

How do you like the print:--Mr. D---- says, and his wife says the same--that you are exceedingly clever--and they shall be happy to do any thing which is produced by the same hand which did the original--and if Mr. D---- can be of any service to you in the etching--you may command him when you please.