MY DEAR B.,--I am in a dreadful state--I see by the play ills, that a Play about our family at Rhymes is in preparation at Common Garden. When I saw the divertisement in the _Currier_, I thought I should have perspired. I never was at Rhymes. I saw my own King, God bless him, crowned--but I neither saw Lues de Sweet nor Charles Deece done anything to, nor never meant to go. What is the Santampoole to me--I don't like Poopery, nor ever did. Pray do you know Mr. Coleman (him as I spoke of before) the itinerary surgeon at Pancras? I am told he cuts out what he likes, of whatever appears at Common Garden, ever since the horses was introduced--if you could contrive to get us emitted, I should be much obligated. Lavy is in a perfect favour about it; and if dear Mr. Ram was not diseased and in his grave, I think he would have gone mad to see our names blackguarded against the walls--besides, there's our cousins--them is more angry than we. In short, I have no doubt but the Play has been caused by some little peake against our family, and I trust to your goodness to get it anniliated beforehand.--Your's, ever, dear B., DOROTHEA JULIA RAMSBOTTOM. P.S. If any of your friends wants a house in a rural situation, our house in Montague-place is still to let. XI. MRS. RAMSBOTTOM WRITES FROM DIEPPE. Dippe, January 1, 1826. DEAR MR. B.,--You have not heard from any on us for a long time--indeed I have no spirts to write to any body, for Lavy has been very mal indeed--we are stopping at Dippe, so called as you know, from being a bathing-place, for I am worried to death. Our house in Montague-place, which since dear Mr. Ram's disease I cannot think of stopping in, is still to let, which is so much waste of money--it is a nice house, open behind to the Mewseum Jordans, and in front all the way to Highgate; but I cannot get it off my hands. As for Mr. Ram's little property in Gloucestershire, I never can go there, for my lawyer tells me, although we might live there if we like, that one of Mr. Ram's creditors has got a lion on the estate, and I cannot think of going to expose myself to the mercy of a wild cretur like that a running about--however, as the French says, "_jamais esprit_,"--never mind--I cannot help it. My son Tom, who is a groin up, is to be in the law himself, indeed I have put him out to Grazing,[13] under a specious pleader--I should like him to be apprenticed to the Lord Chancellor at once, and brought up to the business regular, but I don't know how to get it managed--do you think Mr. Harmer could put me in the way of it? I only write to wish you the full complement of the season--we are a good deal troubled with wind here, but otherwise we are very snug, and there are several high-burning gentlemen of very large property living in Dippe, who are kind enough to dine with us almost every day. I like them--they have no pride at all about them, and, to look at them, you would not think they was worth a Lewy.