I have much to say of this amiable kinswoman; but she has not been properly introduced to your acquaintance. She is remarkably civil to Mr Quin; of whose sarcastic humour she seems to stand in awe; but her caution is no match for her impertinence. ‘Mr Gwynn (said she the other day) I was once vastly entertained with your playing the Ghost of Gimlet at Drury-lane, when you rose up through the stage, with a white face and red eyes, and spoke of quails upon the frightful porcofine--Do, pray, spout a little the Ghost of Gimlet.’ ‘Madam (said Quin, with a glance of ineffable disdain) the Ghost of Gimlet is laid, never to rise again’-- Insensible of this check, she proceeded: ‘Well, to be sure, you looked and talked so like a real ghost; and then the cock crowed so natural. I wonder how you could teach him to crow so exact, in the very nick of time; but, I suppose, he’s game--An’t he game, Mr Gwynn?’ ‘Dunghill, madam.’--‘Well, dunghill, or not dunghill, he has got such a clear counter-tenor, that I wish I had such another at Brambleton-hall, to wake the maids of a morning. Do you know where I could find one of his brood?’ ‘Probably in the work-house at St Giles’s parish, madam; but I protest I know not his particular mew!’ My uncle, frying with vexation, cried, ‘Good God, sister, how you talk! I have told you twenty times, that this gentleman’s name is not Gwynn.’--‘Hoity toity, brother mine (she replied) no offence, I hope--Gwynn is an honorable name, of true old British extraction--I thought the gentleman had been come of Mrs Helen Gwynn, who was of his own profession; and if so be that were the case, he might be of king Charles’s breed, and have royal blood in his veins.’--‘No, madam (answered Quin, with great solemnity) my mother was not a whore of such distinction--True it is, I am sometimes tempted to believe myself of royal descent; for my inclinations are often arbitrary--If I was an absolute prince, at this instant, I believe I should send for the head of your cook in a charger--She has committed felony, on the person of that John Dory, which is mangled in a cruel manner, and even presented without sauce--O tempora! O mores!’ This good-humoured sally turned the conversation into a less disagreeable channel--But, lest you should think my scribble as tedious as Mrs Tabby’s clack, I shall not add another word, but that I am as usual Yours, J. MELFORD BATH, April 30. To Dr LEWIS. DEAR LEWIS,