'Good people,' said I, 'you know not whom you thus insult. I am descended from illustrious, and perhaps Italian parents----' A butcher's boy advanced, and putting half a hat under his arm; 'Will your ladyship,' said he, 'permit me to hand you into that there shop?' I bowed assent, and he led me, nothing loath. Peals of laughter followed us. 'Now,' said I, as I stood at the door, 'I will reward your gallantry with half a guinea.' As I drew forth my money, I saw his face reddening, his cheeks swelling, and his mouth pursing up. 'What delicate sensibility!' said I, 'but positively you must not refuse this trifle.' He took it, and then, just think, the brute laughed in my face! 'I will give this guinea,' cried I, quite enraged, 'to the first who knocks that ungrateful down.' Hardly had I spoken, when he was laid prostrate. He fell against the stall, upset it, and instantly the street was strewn with apples, nuts, and cakes. He rose. The battle raged. Some sided with him, some against him. The furious stall-woman pelted both parties with her own apples; while the only discreet person there, was a ragged little girl, who stood laughing at a distance, and eating one of the cakes. In the midst of the fray, Jerry returned with a coach. I sprang into it, and he after me. 'The guinea, the guinea!' cried twenty voices at once. At once twenty apples came rattling against the glasses. 'Pay me for my apples!' cried the woman. 'Pay me for my windows!' cried the coachman. 'Drive like a devil,' cried Jerry, 'and I will pay you like an emperor!' 'Much the same sort of persons, now-a-days,' said the coachman, and away we flew. The guinea, the guinea! died along the sky. I thought I should have dropt with laughter. My dear friend, do you not sympathize with my sorrows? Desolate, destitute, and dependent on strangers, what is to become of me? I declare I am extremely unhappy. I write from Jerry's house, where I have taken refuge for the present; and as soon as I am settled elsewhere, you shall hear from me again. Adieu. LETTER IX Jerry Sullivan is a petty woollendraper in St. Giles's, and occupies the ground-floor of a small house. At first his wife and daughter eyed me with some suspicion; but when he told them how I had saved him from ruin, and that I was somehow or other a great lady in disguise, they became very civil, and gave me a tolerable breakfast. Then fatigued and sleepy, I threw myself on a bed, and slept till two. I woke with pains in all my limbs; but anxious to forward the adventures of my life, I rose, and called mother and daughter to a consultation on my dress. They furnished me with their best habiliments, for which I agreed to give them two guineas; and I then began equipping myself. While thus employed, I heard the voices of husband and wife in the next room, rising gradually to the matrimonial key. At last the wife exclaims,