And now, dear Mary, we have got to Haddingborrough, among the Scots, who are civil enuff for our money, thof I don’t speak their lingo--But they should not go for to impose upon foreigners; for the bills in their houses say, they have different easements to let; and behold there is nurro geaks in the whole kingdom, nor any thing for poor sarvants, but a barrel with a pair of tongs thrown a-cross; and all the chairs in the family are emptied into this here barrel once a-day; and at ten o’clock at night the whole cargo is flung out of a back windore that looks into some street or lane, and the maids calls gardy loo to the passengers which signifies Lord have mercy upon you! and this is done every night in every house in Haddingborrough; so you may guess, Mary Jones, what a sweet savour comes from such a number of profuming pans; but they say it is wholesome, and, truly, I believe it is; for being in the vapours, and thinking of Issabel and Mr Clinker, I was going into a fit of astericks, when this fiff, saving your presence, took me by the nose so powerfully that I sneezed three times, and found myself wonderfully refreshed; and this to be sure is the raisin why there are no fits in Haddingborrough. I was likewise made believe, that there was nothing to be had but oatmeal and seeps-heads; but if I hadn’t been a fool, I mought have known there could be no heads without kerkasses--This very blessed day I dined upon a delicate leg of Velsh mutton and cully-flower; and as for the oat-meal, I leave that to the sarvants of the country, which are pore drudges, many of them without shoes or stockings--Mr Clinker tells me here is a great call of the gospel; but I wish, I wish some of our family be not fallen off from the rite way--O, if I was given to tailbaring, I have my own secrets to discover--There has been a deal of huggling and flurtation betwixt mistress and an ould Scotch officer, called Kismycago. He looks for all the orld like the scare-crow that our gardener has set up to frite away the sparrows; and what will come of it, the Lord knows; but come what will, it shall never be said that I menchioned a syllabub of the matter--Remember me kindly to Saul and the kitten--I hope they got the horn-buck, and will put it to a good yuse, which is the constant prayer of, Dear Molly, Your loving friend, WIN. JENKINS ADDINGBOROUGH, July 18. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS,