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3P. S. You keep fuch a twatling With you and your bottling,

But I fee the fum total,

[Vida,

Rule 34.

We shall ne'er have one bottle;

The long and the short,
We fhall not have a quart.
I wish you would fign't,
That we may have a pint.
For all your colloguing.
I'd be glad of a knogging:
But I doubt 'tis a fham,
You won't give us a dram.
'Tis of fhine, a mouth moonfull,
You wont part with a spoonfull,
And I must be nimble,

If I can fill my

thimble.

You fee I won't stop

Till I come to a drop;
But I doubt the oraculum
Is a poor fupernaculum;
Tho' perhaps you may tell it
For a grace, if we smell it.

STELLA.

LETTER CV.

Dr. SWIFT to Dr. SHERIDAN.

What

Dublin, Dec. 22. 1722. Hat care we, whether you fwim or fink? Is this a time to talk of boats, or a time to fail in them, when I am fhuddering? or a time to build boat-houses, or pay for carriage? No; but towards fummer, I promife hereby under my hand to fubfcribe a (guinea ) fhilling for one; or, if

.

* The word guinea is fuck though with a pen in the copy.

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you please me, what is blotted out, or something thereabouts; and the ladies fhall fubfcribe three thirteens betwixt them, and Mrs. Brent a penny, and Robert and Archy halfpence a-piece, and the old man and woman a farthing each: in short, I will be your collector, and we will fend it down full of wine, a fortnight before we go at Whitfuntide. You will make eight thoufand blunders in your planting; and who can help it? for I cannot be with you. My horfes cat hay, and I hold my vifitation on January 7. juft in the midft of Chriftmas. Mrs. Brent is angry, and fwears as much as a fanatic can do, that she will subscribe fixpence to your boat-Well, I shall be a country-man when you are not. We are now at Mr. Fad's, with Dan and Sam; and I steal out while they are at cards, like a lover writing to his mistress.- We have no news in our town. The ladies have left us to-day; and I promised them that you would carry your club to Arfellagh, when you are weary of one another. You exprefs your happiness with grief in one hand, and forrow in the other. What fowl have you but the weep? what hares but Mrs. Macfaden's grey hairs? what pease but your own? Your mutton and your weather are both very bad, and fo is your wether-mutton. Wild fowl is what we like. How will this letter get to you?—A fortnight good from this morning. You will find Quilca not the thing it was last Auguft; no body to relifh the lake; no body to ride over the downs; no trout to be caught; no dining over a well; no night-heroics; no morning epics; no ftolen hour when the wife is gone; no creature to call you names. Poor miferable Mr. Sheridan! No blind harpers! no journeys to Rantavan! Anfwer all this, and be my magnus Apollo. We have new plays and new libels, and nothing valuable is old but Stella, whofe bones fhe recom

2

mends

mends to you. Dan

defires to know whether

you faw the advertifement of your being robbed.

And fo I conclude,

Yours, &c.

LETTER CVI.

Dr. SWIFT to Dr. SHERIDAN.

Clonfert, Aug. 3. 1723. NO; I cannot poffibly be with you fo foon; there

t.

are too many rivers, bogs, and mountains between: befides, when i leave this, I fhall make one or two fhort vifits in my way to Dublin, and hope to be in town by the end of this month; though it will be a bad time, in the hurry of your loufy P- Your dream is wrong; for this bifhop t is not able to lift a cat upon my fhoulders. But if you are for a curacy of twenty-five pounds a-year, and ride five miles every Sunday, to preach to fix beggars, have at you. And yet this is no ill country; and the Bishop has made in four months twelve miles of ditches, from his houfe to the Shannon, if you talk of improving. How are you this moment? Do you love or hate Quilca the most of all places? Are you in or out of humour with the world, your friends, your wife, and your fchool! Are the ladies in town or in the country? If I knew, I would write to them, and how are they in health? Quilca (let me fee) (you fee I can (if I please) make parentheses as well as others) is about a hundred miles from Clonfert; and I am

The Reverend Mr. Dan Jackson,

+ Dr. Theophilus Bolton afterwards Bishop of Elphin and Archbishop of Canel.

VOL. X.

P

half

half weary with the four hundred I have rode. With love and fervice, and fo adieu.

Yours, &c.

I

LETTER CVII *.

Dr. SWIFT to Dr. SHERIDAN.

Jan. 25. 1725. Have a packet of letters, which I intended to fend by Molly, who hath been ftopt three days by the bad weather; but now I will fend them by the poft to-morrow to Kells, and inclosed to Mr. Tickell +; there is one to you, and one to James Stopford.

I can do no work this terrible weather; which hath put us all feventy times out of patience. I have been deaf nine days, and am now pretty well recovered again.

Pray defire Mr. Stanton ‡ and Worral ||, to continue giving themfelves fome trouble with Mr. Pratt §; but let it fucceed or not, I hope I fhall be eafy.

Mrs. Johnfon fwears it will rain till Michaelmas. She is so pleased with her pick-ax, that she wears it fastened to her girdle on her left fide, in balance with her watch. The lake is ftrangely overflown, and we are defperate about turf, being forced to buy it three miles off; and Mrs. Johnfon (God help her) gives you many a curfe. Your mafon

This feems to be written from Quilca.

+ Thomas Tickell, Efq; a very ingenious poet, fecretary to the Lords Juftices of Ireland.

Dr. Stanton a mafter in chancery.

Reverend Mr. John Worrel, the Dean's vicar.
Deputy Vice treafarer of Ireland.

is

is come, but cannot yet work upon your garden. Neither can I agree with him about the great wall. For the reft, vide the letter you will have on Monday, if Mr. Tickell ufes you well.

The news of this country is, that the maid you fent down, John Farelly's fifter, is married; but the portion and fettlement are yet a fecret. The cows here never give milk on midfummer-eve

*

You would wonder what carking and caring there is among us for fmall-beer, and lean mutton, and ftarved lamb, and ftopping gaps, and driving. cattle from the corn, In that we are all-to-beDingleyed.

The ladies room fmokes; the rain drops from the fkies into the kitchen; our fervants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain, which entertains them at cards and fleep; which are much lighter than spades, fledges, and crows. Their maxim is,

"Eat like a Turk,

"Sleep like a dormouse;
Be laft at work,

"At victuals foremost."

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

Robin has juft 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 fhould hold up, and the clouds blow off.

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

Being the time maids go out to try pranks about their fweethearts.

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