“... I think the fish will come safest by my neice, as it will escape being rummaged by the custom-house officers, who will be apt to suspect it has a pudding of Brussels lace in it. I thank you for two pound more of excellent tea. I think it full as good as that which costs me 16_s._ a pound.... My pretty neice is so good-humoured: she is never troublesome. She is a mighty orderly person, folds up her things very nicely. She will be both a notable housewife and a good-humoured woman, and therefore will make an excellent wife. Happy will be the man to whose lot she will fall. It is very rarely that one sees these characters meet. A good housewife is generally an anxious, peevish thing; and a good-humoured woman is too often careless and unmindful of her family. As she is your daughter, I do not wonder at her uniting perfections that are but rarely united. My brother William was a favourite of my mother’s, and she certainly made his whole christening suit of that part of her linnen which is supposed to derive matrimonial blessings on the son. For what mother’s darling my neice is reserved I do not know, but I hope one who will deserve her. “I believe you will hardly be able to read my scrawl, which is even worse than usual; for I have almost put my eyes out with accounts, of which our steward brings a plentiful quantity at this time of year. He is a very diligent Person, and expects that I will apply many hours in the day. Our affairs go on very prosperously and in great order, so that I have as little trouble as is possible in a case where so many and large accounts are to be look’d over. “... It is said that gaming is carried on with greater spirit among the fine people than ever was known. I desire my most affectionate compliments to my brothers of Horton, Denton and Canterbury.... My best love to ye dear little ones who adorn your fireside, and best wishes for the year begun, and for all succeeding years, to the parents and the babes.” It was in this year, 1774, that Mrs. Montagu wrote the following to Mrs. Robinson, from Sandleford, September the 5th, 1774: “... I had intended writing to you as soon as I could get a frank.... All frothy matter takes up a great deal of space, and my letters always run over the fourth side and incur double taxes at the post-office. By mistake I had left my franks to you in London, so I waited till I could see Mr. Congreve, the only member of Parliament in our neighbourhood. “... The wet weather has hurt me as a valetudinarian, and mortified me as a farmer, so that I cannot say, in the pert fashionable phrase, it has not made me sick nor sorry, but more of the first than the last, and not greatly either.... We have a prodigious crop of barley, and there seems to be a great plenty of it everywhere, and yet the maltsters are contracting for it already at 30_s._ per quarter. I suppose the ensuing elections will raise the price of malt. I wish our poor people ate more and drank less.