him about the great wall. For the rest, _vide_ the letter
you will have on Monday, if Mr. Tickell uses you well.

The news of this country is, that the maid you sent down, John
Farelly's sister, is married; but the portion and settlement are yet a
secret. The cows here never give milk on midsummer eve.

You would wonder what carking and caring there is among us for small
beer and lean mutton, and starved lamb, and stopping gaps, and driving
cattle from the corn. In that we are all-to-be-Dingleyed.

The ladies' room smokes; the rain drops from the skies into the
kitchen; our servants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain,
which entertains them at cards and sleep; which are much lighter than
spades, sledges, and crows. Their maxim is,

Eat like a Turk,
Sleep like a dormouse;
Be last at work,
At victuals foremost.

Which is all at present; hoping you and your good family are well, as
we are all at this present writing &c.

Robin has just carried out a load of bread and cold meat for
breakfast; this is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for
fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off.

I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, what a draggletail
will she be before she gets to Dublin! I wish she may not happen to
fall upon her back by the way.

I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes,
for they gather together you and your crew, at whist, punch, and
claret. Happy weather for Mrs. Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and all true
lovers of cards and laziness.

THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

Far from our debtors,
No Dublin letters,
Not seen by our betters.

THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

A companion with news,
A great want of shoes;
Eat lean meat, or choose;
A church without pews.
Our horses astray,
No straw, oats, or hay;
December in May,
Our boys run away,
All servants at play.

Molly sends for the letter.

TO ALEXANDER POPE

_Mostly about Gulliver_

Dublin, 17 _Nov._ 1726.

I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs. Howard's, writ in such
mystical terms, that I should never have found out the meaning, if a
book had not been sent me called _Gulliver's Travels_, of which you
say so much in yours. I read the book over, and in the second volume
observed several passages which appear to be patched and altered, and
the style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken. Dr. Arbuthnot
likes the projectors lea