My niece
has had a dangerous fit of illness, occasioned by that cursed
incident at Gloucester, which I mentioned in my last. -- She is a
poor good-natured simpleton, as soft as butter, and as easily
melted -- not that she's a
fool -- the girl's parts are not despicable, and her education
has not been neglected; that is to say, she can write and spell,
and speak French, and play upon the harpsichord; then she dances
finely, has a good figure, and is very well inclined; but, she's
deficient in spirit, and so susceptible -- and so tender
forsooth! -- truly, she has got a languishing eye, and reads
romances. -- Then there's her brother, 'squire Jery, a pert
jackanapes, full of college-petulance and self-conceit; proud as
a German count, and as hot and hasty as a Welch mountaineer. As
for that fantastical animal, my sister Tabby, you are no stranger
to her qualifications -- I vow to God, she is sometimes so
intolerable, that I almost think she's the devil incarnate come
to torment me for my sins; and yet I am conscious of no sins that
ought to entail such family-plagues upon me -- why the devil
should not I shake off these torments at once? I an't married to
Tabby, thank Heaven! nor did I beget the other two: let them
choose another guardian: for my part I an't in a condition to
take care of myself; much less to superintend the conduct of
giddy-headed boys and girls.
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