never read them over to correct them.
Farewell, again.

Pray send this note to Mrs. Brent, to get the money when Parvisol comes
to town, or she can send to him.

LETTER 31.

LONDON, Sept. 25, 1711.

I dined in the City to-day, and at my return I put my 30th into the
post-office; and when I got home I found for me one of the noblest
letters I ever read: it was from ----, three sides and a half in folio,
on a large sheet of paper; the two first pages made up of satire upon
London, and crowds and hurry, stolen from some of his own schoolboy's
exercises: the side and a half remaining is spent in desiring me to
recommend Mrs. South, your Commissioner's widow,(1) to my Lord Treasurer
for a pension. He is the prettiest, discreetest fellow that ever my eyes
beheld, or that ever dipped pen into ink. I know not what to say to him.
A pox on him, I have too many such customers on this side already. I
think I will send him word that I never saw my Lord Treasurer in my
life: I am sure I industriously avoided the name of any great person
when I saw him, for fear of his reporting it in Ireland. And this
recommendation must be a secret too, for fear the Duke of Bolton(2)
should know it, and think it was too mean. I never read so d----d a
letter in my life: a little would make me send it over to you.--I must
send you a pattern, the first place I cast my eyes on, I will not pick
and choose. IN THIS PLACE (meaning the Exchange in London), WHICH IS THE
COMPENDIUM OF OLD TROYNOVANT, AS THAT IS OF THE WHOLE BUSY WORLD, I GOT
SUCH A SURFEIT, THAT I GREW SICK OF MANKIND, AND RESOLVED FOR EVER AFTER
TO BURY MYSELF IN THE SHADY RETREAT OF -----. You must know that London
has been called by some Troynovant, or New Troy. Will you have any
more? Yes, one little bit for Stella, because she'll be fond of it. This
wondrous theatre (meaning London) was no more to me than a desert, and
I should less complain of solitude in a Connaught shipwreck, or even the
great bog of Allen. A little scrap for Mrs. Marget,(3) and then I have
done. THEIR ROYAL FANUM, WHEREIN THE IDOL PECUNIA IS DAILY WORSHIPPED,
SEEMED TO ME TO BE JUST LIKE A HIVE OF BEES WORKING AND LABOURING UNDER
HUGE WEIGHTS OF CARES. Fanum is a temple, but he means the Exchange; and
Pecunia is money: so now Mrs. Marget will understand her part. One more
paragraph, and I-- Well, come, don't be in such a rage, you shall have
no more. Pray, Stella, be satisfied; 'tis very pretty: and that I