I hope to drink your health at Brambleton-hall, in a
horn of October, before the month be out -- Pray let my bed be
turned once a-day, and the windore opened, while the weather is
dry; and burn a few billets with some brush in the footman's
garret, and see their mattrash be dry as a bone: for both our
gentlemen have got a sad could by lying in damp shits at sir
Tummas Ballfart's. No more at present, but my sarvice to Saul and
the rest of our fellow-sarvents,
being,
Dear Mary Jones,
Always yours,
WIN. JENKINS
Oct. 4.
To Miss LAETITIA WILLIS, at Gloucester.
MY DEAR LETTY,
This method of writing to you from time to time, without any
hopes of an answer, affords me, I own, some ease and satisfaction
in the 'midst of my disquiet, as it in some degree lightens the
burthen of affliction: but it is at best a very imperfect
enjoyment of friendship, because it admits of no return of
confidence and good counsel -- I would give the whole world to have
your company for a single day -- I am heartily tired of this
itinerant way of life. I am quite dizzy with a perpetual
succession of objects -- Besides it is impossible to travel such a
length of way, without being exposed to inconveniencies, dangers,
and disagreeable accidents, which prove very grievous to a poor
creature of weak nerves like me, and make me pay very dear for
the gratification of my curiosity.
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