appetite to his health!--He deserves
to die!--But we have all of us our inordinate passions to gratify: and
they generally bring their punishment along with them--so
witnesses the nephew, as well as the uncle.

The fellow was sent upon other business; but stretched his orders a
little, to make his court to a successor.

I am glad I was not at M. Hall, at the time my Lord took the grateful
dose: [it was certainly grateful to him at the time:] there are people
in the world, who would have had the wickedness to say, that I had
persuaded him to drink.

The man says, that his Lordship was so bad when he came away, that the
family began to talk of sending for me in post haste. As I know the
old peer has a good deal of cash by him, of which he seldom keeps
account, it behoves me to go down as soon as I can. But what shall I
do with this dear creature the while?--To-morrow over, I shall, perhaps,
be able to answer my own question. I am afraid she will make
me desperate.

For here have I sent to implore her company, and am denied with scorn.

***

I have been so happy as to receive, this moment, a third letter from
the dear correspondent Miss Howe. A little severe devil!--It would
have broken the heart of my beloved, had it fallen into her hands. I
will enclose a copy of it. Read it here.

TUESDAY, JUNE 20.

MY DEAREST MISS HARLOWE,

Again I venture to you, (almost against inclination;) and that by your
former conveyance, little as I like it.

I know not how it is with you. It may be bad; and then it would be hard
to upbraid you, for a silence you may not be able to help. But if not,
what shall I say severe enough, that you have not answered either of my
last letters? the first* of which [and I think it imported you too much
to be silent upon it] you owned the receipt of. The other which was
delivered into your own hands,** was so pressing for the favour of a line
from you, that I am amazed I could not be obliged; and still more, that I
have not heard from you since.

* See Vol. V. Letter XX.
** See Vol. VI. Letter VII.

The fellow made so strange a story of the condition he saw you in, and
of your speech to him, that I know not what to conclude from it: only,
that he is a simple, blundering, and yet conceited fellow, who, aiming
at description, and the rustic wonderful, gives an air of bumkinly
romance to all he tells. That this is his character, you will believe,
when you are informed that