F----, after having been toasted, and roasted, and baked, and
grilled, and eaten by all sorts of creeping things, begins to
philosophise, is grown a refined as well as a resigned character, and
promises at his return to become an ornament to his own parish, and a
very prominent person in the future family pedigree of the F----s, who
I take to be Goths by their accomplishments, Greeks by their
acuteness, and ancient Saxons by their appetite. He (F----) begs
leave to send half-a-dozen sighs to Sally his spouse, and wonders
(though I do not) that his ill written and worse spelt letters have
never come to hand; as for that matter, there is no great loss in
either of our letters, saving and except that I wish you to know we
are well, and warm enough at this present writing, God knows. You must
not expect long letters at present, for they are written with the
sweat of my brow, I assure you. It is rather singular that Mr. H----
has not written a syllable since my departure. Your letters I have
mostly received as well as others; from which I conjecture that the
man of law is either angry or busy.
"I trust you like Newstead, and agree with your neighbours; but you
know _you_ are a _vixen_--is not that a dutiful appellation? Pray,
take care of my books and several boxes of papers in the hands of
Joseph; and pray leave me a few bottles of champagne to drink, for I
am very thirsty;--but I do not insist on the last article, without you
like it.
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