DEAR B.,--Here we are, after a short tower to Dip in France, in the esteem packet the _Tarbut_--my fourth has been mylad, as the French say, and was recommended a little voyage, and she picked up an old bow, which talked to her in French, and called her a belley spree, which I thought was impotence, but Lavinia said no, and reminded me of judy spree, which is another gallowsism, as they style them--but why they call this place green and young Hastings, which is old and brown, I don't know--they are going, however, to move it about a mile nearer Bexhill, to the stone where William the Third landed when he had conquered the Normans--our old bow said it was a capital sight for a town; but as yet I couldn't see much, although everybody is taking the houses before they are built. We was a-staying with a couzen of mine near Lewis, before we crossed the sea--he is married, and has a firm hornee, which his wife calls a Russen hurby, it is so close to the town, and yet so uncommon rural--the sheep he has, is called marinos, because it is near the sea; and their wool is so fine that they fold them up every night, which I had no notion of--they have two sorts of them, one, which they call the fine weather mutton, stays out all night, I believe, and the other doesn't. But the march of intellect is agoing on, for the dirty boys about the farm-yard, they told me, are sent to Harrow, and the sheep themselves have their pens found them every night; what to do I don't know, and I never like to ask--at Battle, where there is an old abbé living--we did not see him--they have built a large chapel for the Unicorns; I scarcely know what sex they are--I know the Whistling Methodists, because when Mr. Ram and I was young we used to go to the meetin, and hear them preach like anything--there's a great deal of religion in Sussex of one sort and another. My eldest, Mrs. Fulmer, has come here for her a-coach-man--Fulmer wishes it may be a mail, because what they have already is all gurls; if it hadn't been for that, I should have gone to Mrs. Grimsditch's soreye at Hackney last week, when I was to have been done out as Alderman Wenables, but I was obliged to be stationary here. I was so sorry to see in the noosepapers that when the Lord High Admiral exhibited his feet on the 18th of June, Maria Wood was dressed up so strange; they said that after she had been painted, and some part of her scraped clean from duck weed, they tied flags to her stays, and put a Jack into her head, which I think quite wrong, because them Jacks is uncommon insinuating. I see that in Portingal Don Myjewel has got three estates, but they cannot be very grand ones, if they produces only a crown; however, I don't know what they mean in that country, only as they call him real, I suppose he is the rightful king--I don't henvy him, Mr. B.--there's many happier than them as sets upon thorns, though they be gilded ones.