a morass fellor--I vow, I thought he would a fit with Mr 0 Frizzle, because he axed me to dance with him at Spring Garden--But God he knows I have no thoughts eyther of wan or t’other. As for house news, the worst is, Chowder has fallen off greatly from his stomick--He eats nothing but white meats, and not much of that; and wheezes, and seems to be much bloated. The doctors think he is threatened with a dropsy--Parson Marrofat, who has got the same disorder, finds great benefit from the waters; but Chowder seems to like them no better than the squire; and mistress says, if his case don’t take a favourable turn, she will sartinly carry him to Aberga’ny, to drink goat’s whey--To be sure, the poor dear honymil is lost for want of axercise; for which reason, she intends to give him an airing once a-day upon the Downs, in a post-chaise--I have already made very creditable connexions in this here place; where, to be sure, we have the very squintasense of satiety--Mrs Patcher, my lady Kilmacullock’s woman, and I are sworn sisters. She has shewn me all her secrets, and learned me to wash gaze, and refrash rusty silks and bumbeseens, by boiling them with winegar, chamberlye, and stale beer. My short sack and apron luck as good as new from the shop, and my pumpydoor as fresh as a rose, by the help of turtle-water--But this is all Greek and Latten to you, Molly--If we should come to Aberga’ny, you’ll be within a day’s ride of us; and then we shall see wan another, please God--If not, remember me in your prayers, as I shall do by you in mine; and take care of my kitten, and give my kind sarvice to Sall; and this is all at present, from your beloved friend and sarvent, W. JENKINS BATH, April 26. To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall.