From a Cumberland castle I find they have crept, Where from ages to ages their ancestors slept; And 'tis vastly amusing to see how they look, On the Harrogate world, as a new open'd book, Where many new faces appear to delight 'em, But many new manners to wound and affright 'em The old man is shock'd to find gamesters in orders, And barons whose names are well known on the Borders, Now the rivals of grooms a degen'rate race, The days and the deeds of their grandsires disgrace, Nor less does he mourn o'er the ladies undrest, While his delicate daughter, tho' silent's distrest; But his lady bewails with an innocent sigh, That women should gamble, should flirt, or look sly, And declares when they wish to do any thing odd, They should ask their liege lords for a smile and a nod, A practice she thinks in a great many cases, Would save much confusion 'mongst knaves, queens, and aces; So contracted her conscience, illiberal her notion, She fancies submission allied to devotion, And thinks (as she promis'd it once) that a wife, Should remember her vow all the days of her life, The Dragonite ladies all laugh loud enough, At her doctrine, her caps, and her long ruffled cuff, Declaring her creed like her dress is replete, With all that is outré, antique, obsolete, 'Tis the very worst part, of the very old school, Detested by instinct----exploded by rule---- Lady Shufflecut vows she'll to Coventry send her, And the Countess declares not a soul shall defend her, Mrs. Rantipole wishes all women so silly, Were tied by the neck to the heels of her filly, But somehow I feel in the midst of this pother, I should much like a wife who had _had_ such a mother, With this hint dearest madam I'll bid you good bye, Most likely you're tir'd and in truth so am I. 668 &c. &c. &c. LETTER VII. _High Harrogate, August 16th._