“I must take the liberty to advise what is to be done, and to avoid confusion will take them in the order of the letter. Item, for the wet-nurse[51] after the chickenpox, that she may become new milch again, a handful of Camomile flowers, a handful of Pennyroyal, boiled in white wine, and sweetened with treacle, to be taken at going to rest. For my Lord Titchfield who grows prodigiously, Daisy roots and milk. For the small foot and taper ancle of my Lady Duchess, bruised and strained by a fall, a large shoe and oil Opodeldock. For the horse whose Christian name I have forgotten, Friar’s Balsam, and for the death of a dormouse take four of the fairest Moral and Theological Virtues, with patience and fortitude, quantum sufficit, and they will prevent immoderate grieving.... I heard a very ridiculous story a few days ago: Mr. Page, brother to Sir Gregory, going to visit Mr. Edward Walpole,[52] a tame goat which was in the street followed him unperceived when he got out of the coach into the house. Mr. Walpole’s servant, thinking the goat came out of Mr. Page’s coach, carried it into the room to Mr. Walpole, who thought it a little odd Mr. Page should bring such a visitor, as Mr. Page no less admired at his choice of so savoury a companion; but civility, a great disguiser of sentiments, prevented their declaring their opinions, and the goat, no respecter of persons or furniture, began to rub himself against the frame of a chair which was carved and gilt, and the chair, which was fit for a Christian, but unable to bear the shock of a beast, fell almost to pieces. Mr. Walpole thought Mr. Page very indulgent to his dear crony the goat, and wondering he took no notice of the damage, said he fancied tame goats did a great deal of harm, to which the other said he believed so too: after much free and easy behaviour of the goat, to the great detriment of the furniture, they came to an explanation, and Mr. Goat was turned downstairs with very little ceremony or good manners.... Dr. Middleton has got two nieces whom he is to keep entirely, for his brother left them quite destitute. They are very fine children, and my Grannam is very fond of them. The doctor is soon to bring forth his ‘Cicero,’ everybody says the production will do him credit. Lady Thanet has set an assembly on foot about eight miles from hence, where we all meet at the full moon and dance till 12 o’clock, and then take an agreeable journey home. Our assembly in full glory has ten coaches at it; and Lady Thanet, to make up a number, is pleased in her humility to call in all the parsons, apprentices, tradesmen, apothecaries, and farmers, milliners, mantua-makers, haberdashers of small wares, and chambermaids. It is the oddest mixture you can imagine--here sails a reverent parson, there skips an airy apprentice, here jumps a farmer, and then every one has an eye to their trade; the milliner pulls you by the hand till she tears your glove; the