The next letter is burthened with mysterious and anonymous allusions, as to which conjecture is futile. _Stowe July ye 20: 1735._ Dear Nanny,--I am mighty glad you are so well satisfy'd with the match you give me an account of: I was not surpris'd to hear it, for I fancy'd I saw it long ago. I have all sort of reasons to wish Her happy, but to mention no other, She loves you in the manner I am apt to think one shou'd love you. the Person[72] you think pretty easy, is far from it: he endeavours to acquiesce under Pain, to bring his mind, if possible, to such a state of composure as to go through the duties of Life like an honest and Reasonable Man. our Friends[73] Repulse is the most scandalous and ignominious of all things. I want to hear a little of his noble designs for next year: Despair must produce something Extraordinary in so great a mind. I am seriously ashamed of him, and if he was to ask my advice what he should do, I think I cou'd only beg him to do nothing: that Man's whole life is a sort of consolation to me in my poor little circumstances. He gives me occasion to reflect too often, that I wou'd not act his Part one month for twice his estate, but I leave him to talk to you of yourself: I don't hear what Broxom says of your headach's: if you have not consulted him you have used me very ill: Pray send for him and let me know if you are better. Adieu. most affectionately Yrs WM. PITT. Pope and Martha Blount were now at Stowe, so was Lady Suffolk; and William was polishing himself in the best company. _Stow Sept. ye 2: 1735._ Don't say a word more of my never writing, but confess immediately that you admire my way of writing more than any Body's, that is my way of sending you Postcripts Every Day: I have nothing to say of Letters, but Mr Pope[74] says somewhere, 'Heaven first taught Postscripts for the wretches aid,' etc: you must know I han't a word to say to you; for I write only to introduce the Postscript, as Mr Bays wou'd make a Poem to bring in a fine thought, that was none of his own; I therefore finish to leave more room for my Lady Suffolk. adieu. [In another hand, evidently Lady Suffolk's] how often my Dear Child have I wish'd you here? I know you wou'd like it, and I know two who thinks (_sic_) even Stowe wou'd be still more agreeable they talk of you I believe both Love you; but one can pun, and talk nonsense wth Mrs Blount most Elegantly remember Saturday and never forget me, that is, do not be ungratefull. We see in the next letter that Pitt was not merely supping with the wits, but playing at cricket, with Pope perhaps as umpire. _Stow Septr ye 14: 1735._