JENKINS
BATH, May 15.
If the hind should come again, before we be gone, pray send me
the shift and apron, with the vite gallow manky shoes; which
you'll find in my pillowber -- Sarvice to Saul --
To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.
You are in the right, dear Phillips; I don't expect regular
answers to every letter -- I know a college-life is too
circumscribed to afford materials for such quick returns of
communication. For my part, I am continually shifting the scene,
and surrounded with new objects; some of which are striking
enough. I shall therefore conclude my journal for your amusement;
and, though, in all appearance, it will not treat of very
important or interesting particulars, it may prove, perhaps, not
altogether uninstructive and unentertaining.
The music and entertainments of Bath are over for this season;
and all our gay birds of passage have taken their flight to
Bristolwell, Tunbridge, Brighthelmstone, Scarborough, Harrowgate,
&c. Not a soul is seen in this place, but a few broken-winded
parsons, waddling like so many crows along the North Parade.
There is always a great shew of the clergy at Bath: none of your
thin, puny, yellow, hectic figures, exhausted with abstinence,
and hardy study, labouring under the morbi eruditorum, but great
overgrown dignitaries and rectors, with rubicund noses and gouty
ancles, or broad bloated faces, dragging along great swag
bellies; the emblems of sloth and indigestion.
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