Title: Letters of the Late Ignatius Sancho, an African: To which are Prefixed, Memoirs of his Life
Author: Sancho, Ignatius
Language: English
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SANCHO, AN AFRICAN ***



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  Small upper-case letters are indicated by +plus signs+.



LETTERS

OF THE LATE

IGNATIUS SANCHO,

AN AFRICAN.

To which are prefixed,

+MEMOIRS of his LIFE+.


THE THIRD EDITION.


LONDON:

PRINTED BY J. NICHOLS;
+And Sold by C. DILLY, in the POULTRY+.

MDCCLXXXIV.



ADVERTISEMENT.


THE Editor of these Letters thinks proper to obviate an objection,
which she finds has already been suggested, that they were originally
written with a view to publication. She declares, therefore, that no
such idea was ever expressed by Mr. Sancho; and that not a single
letter is here printed from any duplicate preserved by himself, but
all have been collected from the various friends to whom they were
addressed. Her motives for laying them before the publick were, the
desire of shewing that an untutored African may possess abilities equal
to an European; and the still superior motive, of wishing to serve his
worthy family. And she is happy in thus publicly acknowledging she has
not found the world inattentive to the voice of obscure merit.



THE LIFE

OF

IGNATIUS SANCHO.


    “Quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses.”
  +Virgil.+

THE extraordinary Negro, whose Life I am about to write, was born
A. D. 1729, on board a ship in the Slave trade, a few days after it
had quitted the coast of Guinea for the Spanish West-Indies; and, at
Carthagena, he received from the hand of the Bishop, Baptism, and the
name of Ignatius.

A disease of the new climate put an early period to his mother’s
existence; and his father defeated the miseries of slavery by an act of
suicide.

At little more than two years old, his master brought him to England,
and gave him to three maiden sisters, resident at Greenwich; whose
prejudices had unhappily taught them, that African ignorance was the
only security for his obedience, and that to enlarge the mind of their
slave would go near to emancipate his person. The petulance of their
disposition surnamed him Sancho, from a fancied resemblance to the
’Squire of Don Quixote.

But a patron was at hand, whom Ignatius Sancho had merit enough to
conciliate at a very early age.

The late Duke of Montagu lived on Blackheath: he accidentally saw the
little Negro, and admired in him a native frankness of manner as yet
unbroken by servitude, and unrefined by education--he brought him
frequently home to the Duchess, indulged his turn for reading with
presents of books, and strongly recommended to his mistresses the duty
of cultivating a genius of such apparent fertility.

His mistresses, however, were inflexible, and even threatened on angry
occasions to return Ignatius Sancho to his African slavery. The love
of freedom had increased with years, and began to beat high in his
bosom.--Indignation, and the dread of constant reproach arising from
the detection of an amour, infinitely criminal in the eyes of three
Maiden Ladies, finally determined him to abandon the family.

His noble patron was recently dead.--Ignatius flew to the Duchess
for protection, who dismissed him with reproof.--He retired from her
presence in a state of despondency and stupefaction.

Enamoured still of that liberty, the scope of whose enjoyment was now
limited to his last five shillings, and resolute to maintain it with
life, he procured an old pistol for purposes which his father’s example
had suggested as familiar, and had sanctified as hereditary.

In this frame of mind the futility of remonstrance was obvious. The
Duchess secretly admired his character; and at length consented to
admit him into her household, where he remained as butler till her
death, when he found himself, by her Grace’s bequest and his own
œconomy, possessed of seventy pounds in money, and an annuity of thirty.

Freedom, riches, and leisure, naturally led a disposition of African
texture into indulgences; and that which dissipated the mind of
Ignatius completely drained the purse. In his attachment to women,
he displayed a profuseness which not unusually characterizes the
excess of the passion.--Cards had formerly seduced him; but an
unsuccessful contest at cribbage with a Jew, who won his cloaths, had
determined him to abjure the propensity which appears to be innate
among his countrymen.--A French writer relates, that in the kingdoms
of Ardrah, Whydah, and Benin, a Negro will stake at play his fortune,
his children, and his liberty. Ignatius loved the theatre to such a
point of enthusiasm, that his last shilling went to Drury-Lane, on
Mr. Garrick’s representation of Richard.--He had been even induced to
consider the stage as a resource in the hour of adversity, and his
complexion suggested an offer to the manager of attempting Othello and
Oroonoko; but a defective and incorrigible articulation rendered it
abortive.

He turned his mind once more to service, and was retained a few months
by the Chaplain at Montagu-house. That roof had been ever auspicious
to him; and the present Duke soon placed him about his person,
where habitual regularity of life led him to think of a matrimonial
connexion, and he formed one accordingly with a very deserving young
woman of West-Indian origin.

Towards the close of the year 1773, repeated attacks of the gout and a
constitutional corpulence rendered him incapable of farther attendance
in the Duke’s family.

At this crisis, the munificence which had protected him through various
vicissitudes did not fail to exert itself; with the result of his
own frugality, it enabled him and his wife to settle themselves in a
shop of grocery, where mutual and rigid industry decently maintained
a numerous family of children, and where a life of domestic virtue
engaged private patronage, and merited public imitation.

In December, 1780, a series of complicated disorders destroyed him.


Of a Negro, a Butler, and a Grocer, there are but slender anecdotes
to animate the page of the biographer; but it has been held necessary
to give some sketch of the very singular man, whose letters, with all
their imperfections on their head, are now offered to the public.

The display those writings exhibit of epistolary talent, of rapid and
just conception, of wild patriotism, and of universal philanthropy, may
well apologize for the protection of the great, and the friendship of
the literary.

The late Duchesses of Queensberry and Northumberland pressed forward to
serve the author of them. The former intrusted to his reformation a
very unworthy favourite of his own complexion.--Garrick and Sterne were
well acquainted with Ignatius Sancho.

A commerce with the Muses was supported amid the trivial and momentary
interruptions of a shop; the Poets were studied, and even imitated
with some success;--two pieces were constructed for the stage;--the
Theory of Music was discussed, published, and dedicated to the Princess
Royal;--and painting was so much within the circle of Ignatius Sancho’s
judgement and criticism, that several artists paid great _deference_ to
his opinion.


Such was the man whose species philosophers and anatomists have
endeavoured to degrade as a deterioration of the human; and such
was the man whom Fuller, with a benevolence and quaintness of phrase
peculiarly his own, accounted

  “God’s Image, though cut in Ebony.”

To the harsh definition of the naturalist, oppressions political and
legislative have been added; and such are hourly aggravated towards
this unhappy race of men by vulgar prejudice and popular insult. To
combat these on commercial principles, has been the labour of Labat,
Ferman, and Bennezet--such an effort here would be an impertinent
digression.

Of those who have speculatively visited and described the slave-coast,
there are not wanting some who extol the mental abilities of the
natives. D’Elbée, Moore, and Bosman, speak highly of their mechanical
powers and indefatigable industry. Desmarchais does not scruple to
affirm, that their ingenuity rivals the Chinese.

He who could penetrate the interior of Africa, might not improbably
discover negro arts and polity, which could bear little analogy to the
ignorance and grossness of slaves in the sugar islands, expatriated in
infancy, and brutalized under the whip and the taskmaster.

And he who surveys the extent of intellect to which Ignatius Sancho had
attained by self-education, will perhaps conclude, that the perfection
of the reasoning faculties does not depend on a peculiar conformation
of the scull or the colour of a common integument, in defiance of that
wild opinion, “which,” says a learned writer of these times, “restrains
the operations of the mind to particular regions, and supposes that a
luckless mortal may be born in a degree of latitude too high or too low
for wisdom or for wit.”



LETTERS.



LETTER I.

TO MR. J-- W----E.


  Charles Street, Feb. 14, 1768.

  MY WORTHY AND MUCH RESPECTED FRIEND,

POPE observes,

    “Men change with fortune, manners change with climes;
    “Tenets with books, and principles with times.”

+Your+ friendly letter convinced me that you are still the same--and
gave in that conviction a ten-fold pleasure:--you carried out (through
God’s grace) an honest friendly heart, a clear discerning head, and
a soul impressed with every humane feeling.--That you are still the
same--I repeat it--gives me more joy--than the certainty would of
your being worth ten Jaghires:--I dare say you will ever remember
that the truest worth is that of the mind--the best rectitude of the
heart--the conscience unsullied with guilt--the undaunted noble eye,
enriched with innocence, and shining with social glee--peace dancing
in the heart--and health smiling in the face--May these be ever thy
companions!--and for riches you will ever be more than vulgarly
rich--while you thankfully enjoy--and gratefully assist the wants (as
far as you are able) of your fellow-creatures. But I think (and so will
you) that I am preaching. I only meant in truth to thank you, which
I most sincerely do, for your kind letter:--believe me, it gratifies
a better principle than vanity--to know that you remember your
dark-faced friend at such a distance. But what would have been your
feelings--could you have beheld your worthy, thrice worthy father--joy
sitting triumphant in his honest face--speeding from house to house,
amongst his numerous friends, with the pleasing testimonials of his
son’s love and duty in his hands--every one congratulating him, and
joining in good wishes--while the starting tear plainly proved that
over-joy and grief give the same livery?

You met with an old acquaintance of mine, Mr. G----. I am glad to hear
he is well; but, when I knew him, he was young, and not so _wise_ as
_knowing_: I hope he will take example by what he sees in you--and you,
young man, remember, if you should unhappily fall into bad company,
that example is only the fool’s plea, and the rogue’s excuse, for doing
_wrong_ things:--you have a turn for reflection, and a steadiness,
which, aided by the best of social dispositions, must make your company
much coveted, and your person loved.--Forgive me for presuming to
dictate, when I well know you have many friends much more able, from
knowledge and better sense--though I deny--a better will.

You will of course make Men and Things your study--their different
genius, aims, and passions:--you will also note climes, buildings,
soils, and products, which will be neither tedious nor unpleasant.
If you adopt the rule of writing every evening your remarks on the
past day, it will be a kind of friendly _tête-a tête_ between you
and yourself, wherein you may sometimes happily become your own
Monitor;--and hereafter those little notes will afford you a rich fund,
whenever you shall be inclined to re-trace past times and places.----I
say nothing upon the score of Religion--for, I am clear, every good
affection, every sweet sensibility, every heart-felt joy--humanity,
politeness, charity--all, all, are streams from that sacred spring;--so
that to say you are good-tempered, honest, social, &c. &c. is only in
fact saying, you live according to your +Divine Master+’s rules, and
are a Christian.

Your B---- friends are all well, excepting the good Mrs. C----, who is
at this time but so, so. Miss C---- still as agreeable as when you knew
her, if not more so. Mr. R----, as usual, never so happy, never so gay,
nor so much in true pleasure, as when he is doing good--he enjoys the
hope of your well-doing as much as any of your family. His brother John
has been lucky--his abilities, address, good nature, and good sense,
have got him a surgeoncy in the batalion of guards, which is reckoned
a very good thing.

As to news, what we have is so incumbered with falshoods, I think it,
as Bobadil says, “a service of danger” to meddle with: this I know for
truth, that the late great Dagon of the people has totally lost all his
worshipers, and walks the streets as unregarded as Ignatius Sancho, and
I believe almost as poor--such is the stability of popular greatness:

    “One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
    “Of idle starers, or of loud huzza’s,” &c.

Your brother and sister C--d sometimes look in upon us; her boys are
fine, well, and thriving; and my honest cousin Joe increases in sense
and stature; he promises to be as good as clever. He brought me your
first letter, which, though first wrote, had the fate to come last; the
little man came from Red-Lion Court to Charles Street by himself, and
seemed the taller for what he had done; he is indeed a sweet boy, but I
fear every body will be telling him so. I know the folly of so doing,
and yet am as guilty as any one.

There is sent out in the Besborough, along with fresh governors, and
other strange commodities, a little Blacky, whom you must either have
seen or heard of; his name is S----. He goes out upon a rational
well-digested plan, to settle either at Madrass or Bengal, to teach
fencing and riding--he is expert at both. If he should chance to fall
in your way, do not fail to give the rattlepate what wholesome advice
you can; but remember, I do strictly caution you against lending him
money upon any account, for he has every thing but--principle; he will
never pay you; I am sorry to say so much of one whom I have had a
friendship for, but it is needful. Serve him, if you can--but do not
trust him.--There is in the same ship, belonging to the Captain’s band
of music, one C-- L--n, whom I think you have seen in Privy Gardens: he
is honest, trusty, good-natured, and civil; if you see him, take notice
of him, and I will regard it as a kindness to me. I have nothing more
to say. Continue in right thinking, you will of course act well; in
well-doing, you will insure the favour of God, and the love of your
friends, amongst whom pray reckon

  Yours faithfully,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.



LETTER II.

TO MR. M----.


  August 7, 1768.

+Lord+! what is Man?--and what business have such lazy, lousy,
paltry beings of a day to form friendships, or to make connexions?
Man is an absurd animal--yea, I will ever maintain it--in his
vices, dreadful--in his few virtues, silly--he has religion without
devotion--philosophy without wisdom--the divine passion (as it
is called) love too oft without affection--and anger without
cause--friendship without reason--hate without reflection--knowledge
(like Ashley’s punch in small quantities) without judgement--and wit
without discretion.--Look into old age, you will see avarice joined
to poverty--letchery, gout, impotency, like three monkeys, or London
bucks, in a one-horse whisky, driving to the Devil.--Deep politicians
with palsied heads and relaxed nerves--zealous in the great cause of
national welfare and public virtue--but touch not--oh! touch not the
pocket--friendship--religion--love of country--excellent topics for
declamation!--but most ridiculous chimera to suffer either in money or
ease--for, trust me, my M----, I am resolved upon a reform.--Truth,
fair Truth, I give thee to the wind!--Affection, get thee hence!
Friendship, be it the idol of such silly chaps, with aching heads,
strong passions, warm hearts, and happy talents, as of old used to
visit Charles Street, and now abideth in fair G----h House.

I give it under my hand and mark, that the best receipe for your aching
head (if not the only thing which will relieve you) is cutting off your
hair--I know it is not the _ton_; but when ease and health stand on
the right--ornament and fashion on the left--it is by no means the Ass
between two loads of hay--why not ask council about it? Even the young
part of the faculty were formerly obliged to submit to amputation,
in order to look wise.--What they sacrificed to appearances, do thou
to necessity.--Absalom had saved his life, but for his hair. You
will reply, “Cæsar would have been drowned, but his length of hair
afforded hold to the friendly hand that drew him to shore.” Art, at
this happy time, imitates Nature so well in both sexes, that in truth
our own growth is but of little consequence. Therefore, my dear M--,
part with your hair and head-achs together; and let us see you spruce,
well-shorn, easy, gay, debonnair--as of old.

I have made enquiry after L----’s letter. My friend R---- went to
demand the reason for omitting to publish it, and to reclaim the copy.
The publisher smiled at him, and bid him examine the M. C. of J. 13,
where he would find L. and the same paper of the 20th instant, where
he would also find P---- B----’s very angry answer.--Indeed the poor
fellow foams again, and appears as indecently dull as malice could with
him. I went to the coffee-house to examine the file, and was greatly
pleased upon the second reading of your work, in which is blended the
Gentleman and the Scholar. Now, observe, if you dare to say I flatter,
or mean to flatter, you either impeach my judgement or honesty--at
your peril then be it.--For your letter of yesterday, I could find
in my conscience not to thank you for it--it gave a melancholy tint
to every thing about me. Pope had the head-ach vilely--Spenser, I
have heard, suffered much from it--in short, it is the ail of true
Geniuses.--They applied a thick wreath of laurel round their brows--do
you the same--and putting the best foot foremost--duly considering the
mansion--what it had suffered through chance, time, and hard use--be
thankfully resigned, humble, and say, “It is well it is no worse!”

I do not wish you to be any other than nice in what new acquaintance
you make. As to friendship, it is a mistake--real friendships are not
hastily made--friendship is a plant of slow growth, and, like our
English oak, spreads--is more majestically beautiful, and increases
in shade, strength, and riches, as it increases in years. I pity your
poor head, for this confounded scrawl of mine is enough to give the
head-ach to the strongest brain in the kingdom--so remember I quit
the pen unwillingly, having not said half what I meant; but, impelled
by conscience, and a due consideration of your ease, I conclude, just
wishing you as well as I do my dear self,

  Yours, +I. SANCHO+.


  Your cure, in four words, is
  CUT--OFF--YOUR--HAIR!



LETTER III.

TO MR. M----.


  Sept. 17, 1768.

I AM uneasy about your health--I do not like your silence--let some
good body or other give me a line, just to say how you are.--I will,
if I can, see you on Sunday;--it is a folly to like people, and call
them friends, except they are blest with health and riches.--A very
miserable undone poor wretch, who has no portion in this world’s
goods but honesty and good temper, has a child to maintain, and is
very near in a state of nature in the article of covering, has applied
to me.--I do know something of her--no greater crime than poverty and
nakedness.--Now, my dear M----, I know you have a persuasive eloquence
among the women--try your oratorical powers.--You have many women--and
I am sure there must be a great deal of charity amongst them--Mind,
we ask no money--only rags--mere literal rags.--Patience is a ragged
virtue--therefore strip the girls, dear M----, strip them of what
they can spare--a few superfluous worn-out garments--but leave them
pity--benevolence--the charities--goodness of heart--love--and the
blessings of yours truly with affection, or something very like it,

  I SANCHO.



LETTER IV.

TO MR. M----.


  Sept. 20, 1768.

OH! my M----, what a feast! to a mind fashioned as thine is to gentle
deeds!--Could’st thou have beheld the woe-worn object of thy charitable
care receive the noble donation of thy blest house!--the lip quivering,
and the tongue refusing its office, thro’ joyful surprize--the heart
gratefully throbbing--overswelled with thankful sensations--I could
behold a field of battle, and survey the devastations of the Devil,
without a tear--but a heart o’ercharged with gratitude, or a deed
begotten by sacred pity--as thine of this day--would melt me, although
unused to the melting mood. As to thy noble, truly noble, Miss ----,
I say nothing--she serves a Master--who can and will reward her as
ample--as her worth exceeds the common nonsensical dolls of the
age;--but for thy compeers, may they never taste any thing less in this
world--than the satisfaction resulting from heaven-born Charity! and
in the next, may they and you receive that blest greeting--“Well done,
thou good and faithful,” &c. &c. Tell your girls that I will kiss them
twice in the same place--troth, a poor reward;--but more than that--I
will respect them in my heart, amidst the casual foibles of worldly
prejudice and common usage.--I shall look to their charitable hearts,
and that shall spread a crown of glory over every transient defect.----
The poor woman brings this in her hand;--she means to thank you--your
noble L----, your good girls--her benefactors--her saviours. I too
would thank--but that I know the opportunity I have afforded you of
doing what you best love, makes you the obliged party--the obliger,

  Your faithful friend,
  I. SANCHO.



LETTER V.

TO MR. K----.


  Richmond, Oct. 20, 1769.

WHAT, my honest friend K----, I am heartily glad to see you, quoth
I--long look’d for, come at last.--Well, we will have done with
that;--you have made ample amends for your silence--have approved
yourself, what I ever esteemed you--an honest, hearty, good lad.--As
to your apologizing about your abilities for writing--’tis all a
humm--you write sense;--and verily, my good friend, he that wishes
to do better must be a coxcomb.--You say you was thrown from your
horse but once--in my conscience, I think once full oft enough--I am
glad, however, you escaped so well.--The description of your journey
I return you thanks for--it pleased me much--and proved that you
looked rather farther than your horse’s head.--A young man should turn
travel--home--leisure--or employment--all to the one grand end of
improving himself. From your account of Dalkeith, I now view it “in
my mind’s eye” (as Hamlet says), and think it a delightful spot.--I
was wrong, I find, in my notions of the Edinburghers--for I judged
them the grand patterns for--cleanliness--politeness--and generosity.
Your birth-day entertainments made a blaze in our papers, which said,
amongst other things, that the puncheons of rum flood as thick in
your park as the trees--oh; how I licked my lips, and wished the
distance (400 miles) less between us.--You do not say a word about
coming back again.--Poor Pat has paid his last debt--peace and bliss
to his spirit! rest to his bones!--his wife and daughter (both with
child) and his youngest child all came down;--what a scene had I to be
spectator of!--trust me, James, I cry’d like a whipt school-boy!--But
then my noble master--Great God, reward him!--Tell me not of ninety
covers--splendour--and feasting--To wipe away the tears of distress,
to make the heart of the widow to sing for joy--may such actions ever
(as they have long been) be the characteristic of the good Duke of
M----! Dr. James, thy favourite, twice came here:--at his first visit
he gave no hope--the next day he came, and poor Pat had resigned up
his spirit two hours before he got here;--his Grace paid him the
tribute, the rich tribute, of many tears--and ordered me to get a
lodging for his widow and children:--in the evening he ordered me to
go to them for him--and acquaint Mrs. W---- how very sensible he was
of her great loss, as well as his own--that he would ever be a friend
to her--and as to the boy--though he was perfectly well satisfied
with his conduct in his place--yet, if he would like any trade better
than continuing his servant--he would put him out, and support him
through his apprenticeship;--and he would give him a year to consider
it.--Pat has chose to stay, and his Grace promises whoever uses him
ill shall be no servant here:--on the night of his interment, after
all was over, the Duke wrote to the widow himself, and inclosed a
twenty pound bill--and repeated his promises.--Your own heart, my
dear James, will make the best comment--which is grandest--one
such action--or ten birth-days;--though in truth the latter has his
merit--it creates business, and helps the poor.--I suppose you will
expect me to say something of our family. Her Grace, I am truly sorry
to say it, has been but poorly for some time--and indeed is but
indifferent now--God of his mercy grant her better health! and every
good that can contribute to her happiness!--The good Marquiss is with
us--Are not you tired? This is a deuced long letter.--Well, one word
more, and then farewell. Mrs. M---- is grown generous--has left off
swearing and modelling. S---- is turned Jew, and is to be circumcised
next Passover. W---- is turned fine gentleman--and left off work--and
I your humble friend, I am for my sins turned Methodist.--Thank God!
we are all pretty hobbling as to health.--Dame Sancho will be much
obliged to you for your kind mention of her--she and the brats are very
well, thank Heaven! Abraham gives up the stockings--and monkey Tom his
box--they both, with all the rest, join in love and best wishes to
your worship.--I, for my own share, own myself obliged to you--and
think myself honoured in your acknowledging yourself my pupil; were I
an ambitious man, I should never forgive you,--for in truth you by far
excel your master:--go on, and prosper, “Render unto Cæsar the things
which are Cæsar’s;”--laugh at all the tall boys in the kingdom.--I
rest, dear Jemmy, thy true friend and obliged fellow-servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER VI.

TO MRS. F----.


  Richmond, Oct. 20, 1769.

I SENT you a note in Mrs. Sancho’s name this day fortnight--importing
that she would hope for the pleasure of seeing you at Richmond before
the fine weather takes its leave of us:--neither hearing from nor
seeing you--though expecting you every day--we fear that you are not
well--or that Mr. F---- is unhappily ill--in either case we shall
be very sorry--but I will hope you are all well--and that you will
return an answer by the bearer of this that you are so--and also when
we may expect to have the pleasure of seeing you;--there is half a bed
at your service.--My dear Mrs. Sancho, thank God! is greatly mended.
Come, do come, and see what a different face she wears now--to what
she did when you kindly proved yourself her tender, her assisting
tender friend.--Come and scamper in the meadows with three ragged wild
girls.--Come and pour the balm of friendly converse into the ear of
my sometimes low-spirited love! Come, do come, and come soon, if you
mean to see Autumn in its last livery.--Tell your coachman to drive
under the hill to Mr. B----’s on the common, where you will be gladly
received by the best half of your much and greatly obliged friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER VII.

TO EDWARD YOUNG, ESQ.


  On the death of Lord ----, Son to the Duke of ----.

  Richmond, April 21, 1770.

  HONOURED SIR,

I +bless+ God, their Graces continue in good health, though as yet
they have not seen any body--I have duly acquainted his Grace
with the anxious and kind enquiries of yourself and other of his
noble friends.--Time will, I hope, bring them comforts. Their
loss is great indeed; and not to them only. The public have a
loss--Goodness--Wisdom--Knowledge--and Greatness--were united in him.
Heaven has gained an Angel; but earth has lost a treasure. Hoping you
are as well as you wish your friends, I am, honoured Sir,

  Your most obedient and grateful
  humble servant to command,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER VIII.

TO MR. M----.


  March 21, 1770.

    “He, who cannot stem his anger’s tide,
    “Doth a wild horse without a bridle ride.”

IT is, my dear M----, the same with the rest of our passions; we have
Reason given us for our rudder--Religion is our sheet anchor--our
fixed star Hope--Conscience our faithful monitor--and Happiness the
grand reward.--We all in this manner can preach up trite maxims:--ask
any jackass the way to happiness--and like me they will give vent to
picked-up common-place sayings--but mark how they act--why just as
you and I do--content with acknowledging a slight acquaintance with
Wisdom, but ashamed of appearing to act under her sacred guidance.--You
do me much more honour than I deserve, in wishing to correspond with
me--the balance is entirely in your favour--but I fancy you were
under the malady of your country, hypp’d for want of fresh air and
exercise--so, sitting in a pensive attitude, with lack-lustre eye, and
vacant countenance--the thought obtruded on your fancy to give Sancho a
letter--and after a hard conflict ’twixt laziness and inclination--the
deed was done.--I verily believe you commit errors--only for the sake
of handsomely apologizing for them, as tumblers oft make slips to
surprize beholders with their agility in recovering themselves.--I saw
Mr. B-- last night--who by the way I like much--the Man I mean--and
not the Genius (tho’ of the first rate) he chattered and laughed like
a soul ignorant of evil. He asked about a motley creature at ----. I
told him with more truth than wit--that you was hypp’d.--I inclose
you a proof print:--and how does Mad. M----, &c. &c.? Is Miss S----
better?--Is Mrs. H----, Mrs. T----, Mrs. H----? Lord preserve me! what
in the name of mischief have I to do with all this combustible matter?
Is it not enough for me that I am fast sliding down the vale of years?
Have not I a gout? six brats, and a wife?--Oh! Reason, where art
thou? you see by this how much easier it is to preach than to do! But
stop--we know good from evil; and, in serious truth, we have powers
sufficient to withstand vice, if we will choose to exert ourselves.
In the field, if we know the strength and situation of the enemy, we
place out-posts and centinels--and take every prudent method to avoid
surprize. In common life, we must do the same;--and trust me, my honest
friend, a victory gained over passion, immorality, and pride, deserves
_Te Deums_, better than those gained in the fields of ambition and
blood.--Here’s letter for letter, and so farewell,

  Yours--as you behave,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER IX.

TO MR. K----.


  Dalkeith, July 16, 1770.
  Sunday.

ALIVE; alive ho!--my dear boy, I am glad to see you?--Well, and
how goes it?--Badly, sayest thou--no conversation, no joy, no
felicity!--Cruel absence, thou lover’s hell! what pangs, what soul-felt
pangs, dost thou inflict! Cheer up, my child of discretion--and comfort
yourself that every day will bring the endearing moment of meeting, so
much nearer--chew the cud upon rapture in reversion--and indulge your
fancy with the sweet food of intellectual endearments;--paint in your
imagination the thousand graces of your H----, and believe this absence
a lucky trial of her constancy.--I don’t wonder the cricket-match
yielded no amusement--all sport is dull, books unentertaining--Wisdom’s
self but folly--to a mind under Cupidical influence.--I think I behold
you with supple-jack in hand--your two faithful happy companions by
your side--complimenting like courtiers every puppy they meet--yourself
with eyes fixed in a lover-like rumination--and arms folded in sorrow’s
knot--pace slowly thro’ the meadows.--I have done--for too much
truth seldom pleases folks in love.--We came home from our Highland
excursion last Monday night, safe and well--after escaping manifold
dangers.--Mesdames H----, D----, and self, went into the post-coach,
and were honour’d with the freedom of Dumbarton. By an overset, the
ladies shewed their--delicacy--and I my activity[1]--Mr. B---- his
humanity;--all was soon to rights--nothing broke--and no one hurt--and
laughter had its fill.--Inverary is a charming place--the beauties
various--and the whole plan majestic;--there are some worthy souls on
the spot, which I admire more than the buildings and prospects.--We
had herrings in perfection--and would have had mackarel; but the
scoundrels were too sharp for us--and would not be caught. The
Loch-Loman--Ben-Loman--Domiquith--and Arsenhoe--with Hamilton and
Douglas houses--are by much too long for description by letter.--We
paraded to Edinburgh last Friday in a post coach and four;--H----
D----, Mrs. M----, housekeeper, and self, were the party;--we saw
the usual seeings, and dined at Lord Chief Baron’s, but--dare I tell
you?--H--’s figure attracted universal admiration.--True!--Alas, poor
K----!--but, man, never fret--my honesty to a rotten egg--we bring her
home sound.--We read a shocking account in the papers of a storm of
rain at Richmond Gardens, and distress, &c. &c. is it true? if so, why
did not you mention it? H---- sends her service to you, M---- his best
respects--and all their best wishes to you and birds.--Your confounded
epistle cost me seven pence;--deuce take you, why did not you inclose
it?--So you do not like Eloisa--you are a noddy for that--read it till
you do like it.--I am glad you have seen Cymon;--that you like it,
does but little credit to your taste--for every body likes it--I can
afford you no more time--for I have three letters to write besides this
scrawl.--I hear nothing of moving as yet--pray God speed us southward!
though we have fine weather--fine beef--fine ale--and fine ladies.

Lady Mary grows a little angel;--the Dutchess gets pretty round--they
all eat--drink--and seem pure merry--and we are all out of mourning
this day--farewell.

  Yours, &c. &c.
  I. SANCHO.

[1] Mr. Sancho was remarkably unwieldy and inactive, and never gave a
    greater proof of it than at this overset, when he and a goose-pye
    were equally incapable of raising themselves.



LETTER X.

TO MISS L----.


  August, 31, 1770.

DO not you condemn me for the very thing that you are guilty of
yourself;--but before I recriminate--let me be grateful, and
acknowledge that heartfelt satisfaction which I ever feel from the
praise of the good.--Sterne says--‘every worthy mind loves praise’--and
declares that he loves it too--but then it must be sincere. Now I
protest that you have something very like flattery;--no matter--I
honestly own, it pleases me--Vanity is a shoot from self-love--and
self-love Pope declares to be the spring of motion in the human
breast.--Friendship founded upon right judgement takes the good and bad
with the indulgence of blind love;--nor is it wrong--for as weakness
and error is the lot of humanity--real friendship must oft kindly
overlook the undesigning frailties of undisguised nature.--My dear
Madam, I beg ten thousand pardons for the dull sermon I have been
preaching:--You may well yawn.--So the noble! the humane! the patron!
the friend! the good Duke leaves Tunbridge on Monday--true nobility
will leave the place with him--and kindness and humanity will accompany
Miss L---- whenever she thinks fit to leave it.--Mrs. Sancho is pretty
well, pretty round, and pretty tame! she bids me say, Thank you in the
kindest manner I possibly can--and observe, I say, Thank you kindly.--I
will not pretend to enumerate the many things you deserve our thanks
for:--you are upon the whole an estimable young woman--your heart is
the best part of you--may it meet with its likeness in the man of
your choice!--and I will pronounce you a happy couple.--I hope to hear
in your next--(that is, if--) that you are about thinking of coming
to town--no news stiring but politics--which I deem very unfit for
ladies.--I shall conclude with John Moody’s prayer--“The goodness of
goodness bless and preserve you!”--I am dear Miss L----’s most sincere
servant and friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XI.

TO MR. S----N.


  Dalkeith, Sept. 15, 1770.

IT was kindly done of my worthy old friend to give me the satisfaction
of hearing he was well and happy.--Believe me, I very often think of
and wish to be with you;--without malice, I envy you the constant
felicity of being with worthy good children--whose regards and filial
tenderness to yourself--and christian behaviour to each other--reflect
honor to themselves and credit to you. But the thing I have much at
heart you are provokingly silent about--is my sweet Polly married yet?
has she made Mr. H---- happy? May they both enjoy every comfort God
Almighty blesses his children with! And how comes it my dear Tommy does
not give me a line? I hope he is well, hearty, and happy--and honest
downright Sally also;--tell Tommy he has disappointed me in not writing
to me.--I hope Mrs. Sancho will be as good as her word, and soon pay
you a visit.--I will trust her with you, though she is the treasure of
my soul.--We have been a week in the Highlands, and a fine country it
is.--I hear nothing of coming home as yet--but I fancy it will not be
long now.--Mrs. H---- sends her love to you and yours--and I my double
love to self and the four young ones--with my best wishes and respects
to Mrs. B----y, and tell her I am half a Methodist:--here is a young
man preaches here, one of those five who were expelled from Oxford--his
name is M----n; he has a good strong voice--much passion--and
preaches three times a day--an hour and a half each time;--he is
well-built--tall--genteel--a good eye--about twenty-five--a white
hand, and a blazing ring--he has many converts amongst the ladies;--I
cannot prevail on Mrs. H---- to go and hear him--I have been four or
five times, and heard him this day--his text was the epistle in the
communion service.--I am, dear friend, yours sincerely, and all your
valuable family’s sincere well-wisher, and, were it in my power, I
would add friend,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


Their Graces are all well--and Lady Mary grows every day--she is a
sweet child.--Remember me to Mrs. ----, and tell her Mrs. M---- is
quite the woman of fashion:--she is pretty well in every thing except
her eyes, which are a little inflamed with cold--and she does not
forget they are so. Once more my cordial love to the girls; and to the
worthies, Tommy, Mr. H---- B----, and self. Adieu.



LETTER XII.

TO MRS. H----.


  Richmond, Dec. 22, 1771.

YOU cannot conceive the odd agreeable mixture of pleasure and pain I
felt on the receipt of your favor;--believe me, good friend, I honor
and respect your nobleness of principle--but at the same time greatly
disapprove of your actions.--My dear Madam, bribery and corruption
are the reigning topics of declamation;--and here, because I happen
to be a well-wisher, you are loading us with presents.--One word
for all, my good Mrs. H---- must not be offended when I tell her it
hurts my pride--for pride I have--too much, God knows. I accept your
present this time--and do you accept dame Sancho’s and my thanks--and
never aim at sending aught again--Your daughter Kate brought me your
letter: she seemed a little surprized at my being favoured with your
correspondence--and I am sure wished to see the contents.--As I
from my soul honor filial feelings--it hurt me not to gratify her
honest curiosity--but I do not chuse to let her know any thing of
the matter--to save her the anxiety of hope and fear. She is very
well, and rules over us--not with an iron sceptre--but a golden one.
We tell her we love her too well--in truth I can never return her
a tithe of the kindnesses she has shewn my family--but what’s all
this to you?--I shall tire you with a jargon of nonsense; therefore
I shall only wish you all many happy returns of this season--good
stomachs--good cheer--and good fires.--My kind remembrance to Madam
Tilda--tell her, if she’s a good girl, I will try to recommend her
to Mr. G---- the painter, for a wife;--he is really, I believe, a
first-rate genius--and, what’s better, he is a good young man--and
I flatter myself will do honor to his science, and credit to his
friends.--Kitty looks like the Goddess of Health--I am sure, every drop
of blood in her honest heart beats for the welfare and happiness of her
parents.--Believe me ever your obliged servant and friend,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XIII.

TO MR. B----.


  London, July 18, 1772.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

NOTHING could possibly be more welcome than the favor of your truly
obliging letter, which I received the day before yesterday.--Know, my
worthy young man--that it’s the pride of my heart when I reflect that,
through the favor of Providence, I was the humble means of good to so
worthy an object.--May you live to be a credit to your great and good
friends, and a blessing and comfort to your honest parents!--May you,
my child, pursue, through God’s mercy, the right paths of humility,
candour, temperance, benevolence--with an early piety, gratitude, and
praise to the Almighty Giver of all your good?--gratitude--and love
for the noble and generous benefactiors his providence has so kindly
moved in your behalf! Ever let your actions be such as your own heart
can approve--always think before you speak, and pause before you
act--always suppose yourself before the eyes of Sir William--and Mr.
Garrick.--To think justly, is the way to do rightly--and by that means
you will ever be at peace within.--I am happy to hear Sir W---- cares
so much about your welfare--his character is great, because it is
good;--as to your noble friend Mr. Garrick--his virtues are above all
praise--he has not only the best head in the world, but the best heart
also;--he delights in doing good.--Your father and mother called on me
last week, to shew me a letter which Mr. Garrick has wrote to you--keep
it, my dear boy, as a treasure beyond all price--it would do honor to
the pen of a divine--it breathes the spirit of father--friend--and
christian!--indeed I know no earthly being that I can reverence so
much as your exalted and noble friend and patron Mr. Garrick.--Your
father and mother, I told you, I saw lately--they were both well, and
their eyes overflowed at the goodness of your noble patrons--and with
the honest hope that you would prove yourself not unworthy of their
kindness.

I thank you for your kindness to my poor black brethren--I flatter
myself you will find them not ungrateful--they act commonly from their
feelings: I have observed a dog will love those who use him kindly--and
surely, if so, negroes in their state of ignorance and bondage will not
act less generously, if I may judge them by myself--I should suppose
kindness would do any thing with them;--my soul melts at kindness--but
the contrary--I own with shame--makes me almost a savage.--If you
can with conveniency--when you write again--send me half a dozen
cocoa-nuts, I shall esteem them for your sake--but do not think of it
if there is the least difficulty.--In regard to wages, I think you
acted quite right--don’t seek too hastily to be independent--it is
quite time enough yet for one of your age to be your own master.--Read
Mr. Garrick’s letter night and morning--put it next your heart--impress
it on your memory--and may the God of all Mercy give you grace to
follow his friendly dictates!--I shall ever truly rejoice to hear
from you--and your well-doing will be a comfort to me ever; it is not
in your own power and option to command riches--wisdom and health
are immediately the gift of God--but it is in your own breast to be
good--therefore, my dear child, make the only right election--be good,
and trust the rest to God; and remember he is about your bed, and about
your paths, and spieth out all your ways. I am, with pride and delight,

  Your true friend,
  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XIV.

TO MR. S----E.


  Richmond, Oct. 11, 1772.

YOUR letter gave me more pleasure than in truth I ever expected from
your hands--but thou art a flatterer;--why dost thou demand advice
of me? Young man, thou canst not discern wood from trees;--with
awe and reverence look up to thy more than parents--look up to thy
almost divine benefactors--search into the motive of every glorious
action--retrace thine own history--and when you are convinced that
they (like the All-gracious Power they serve) go about in mercy doing
good--retire abashed at the number of their virtues--and humbly beg
the Almighty to inspire and give you strength to imitate them.--Happy,
happy lad! what a fortune is thine!--Look round upon the miserable fate
of almost all of our unfortunate colour. Superadded to ignorance, see
slavery, and the contempt of those very wretches who roll in affluence
from our labours superadded to this woful catalogue--hear the ill-bred
and heart-racking abuse of the foolish vulgar.--You, S----e, tread
as cautiously as the strictest rectitude can guide you--yet must
you suffer from this--but, armed with truth--honesty--and conscious
integrity--you will be sure of the plaudit and countenance of the
good;--if, therefore, thy repentance is sincere--I congratulate thee as
sincerely upon it--it is thy birth-day to real happiness.--Providence
has been very lavish of her bounty to you--and you are deeply in
arrears to her--your parts are as quick as most mens; urge but your
speed in the race of virtue with the same ardency of zeal as you have
exhibited in error--and you will recover, to the satisfaction of your
noble patrons--and to the glory of yourself.--Some philosopher--I
forget who--wished for a window in his breast--that the world might
see his heart;--he could only be a great fool, or a very good man:--I
will believe the latter, and recommend him to your imitation.--Vice
is a coward--;--to be truly brave, a man must be truly good; you hate
the name of cowardice--then, S----e, avoid it--detest a lye,--and shun
lyars--be above revenge;--if any have taken advantage either of your
guilt or distress, punish them with forgiveness--and not only so--but,
if you can serve them any future time, do it--you have experienced
mercy and long-sufferance in your own person--therefore gratefully
remember it, and shew mercy likewise.

I am pleased with the subject of your last--and if your conversion
is real, I shall ever be happy in your correspondence--but at the
same time I cannot afford to pay five pence for the honour of your
letters;--five pence is the twelfth part of five shillings--the
forty-eighth part of a pound--it would keep my girls in potatoes two
days.--The time may come, when it may be necessary for you to study
calculations;--in the mean while, if you cannot get a frank, direct to
me under cover to his Grace the Duke of ----. You have the best wishes
of your sincere friend (as long as you are your own friend)

  +Ignatius Sancho.+


You must excuse blots and blunders--for I am under the dominion of a
cruel head-ach--and a cough, which seems too fond of me.



LETTER XV.

TO MR. M----.


  Nov. 8, 1772.

BRAVO! my ingenious friend!--to say you exceed my hopes, would be to
lye.--At my first knowledge of you--I was convinced that Providence
had been partial in the talents entrusted to you--therefore I
expected exertion on your side--and I am not disappointed; go
on, my honest heart, go on!--hold up the mirror to an effeminate
gallimawfry----insipid, weak, ignorant, and dissipated set of
wretches--and scourge them into shame--the pen--the pencil--the
pulpit--oh! may they all unite their endeavours--and rescue this once
manly and martial people from the silken slavery of foreign luxury
and debauchery!--Thou, my worthy M----, continue thy improvements;
and may the Almighty bless thee with the humble mien of plenty and
content!--Riches ensnare--the mediocrity is Wisdom’s friend--and that
be thine!--When you see S----, note his behaviour--he writes me word
that he intends a thorough and speedy reformation;--I rather doubt him,
but should be glad to know if you perceive any marks of it--You do
not tell me that you have seen Mr. G----; if you have not, I shall be
angry with you--and attribute your neglect to pride:--pray render my
compliments most respectful and sincere to Mrs. H----, and the little
innocent laughing rose-bud--my love to my son.--I am heartily tired of
the country;--the truth is--Mrs. Sancho and the girls are in town;--I
am not ashamed to own that I love my wife--I hope to see you married,
and as foolish.

  I am yours, sincerely, &c. &c.

  +Ign. Sancho.+



LETTER XVI.

TO MRS. H----.


  Charles Street, Nov. 1, 1773.

  MY DEAR AND RESPECTED MADAM,

I HAVE sincere pleasure to find you honour me in your thoughts--to have
your good wishes, is not the least strange, for I am sure you possess
that kind of soul, that Christian philanthropy, which wishes well--and,
in the sense of Scripture, breathes peace and good-will to all.--Part
of your scheme we mean to adopt--but the principal thing we aim at is
in the tea, snuff, and sugar way, with the little articles of daily
domestic use.--In truth, I like your scheme, and I think the three
articles you advise would answer exceedingly well--but it would require
a capital--which we have not--so we mean to cut our coat according to
our scanty quantum--and creep with hopes of being enabled hereafter to
mend our pace.--Mrs. Sancho is in the straw--she has given me a fifth
wench--and your worthy Kate has offered her the honour of standing for
her sponsor, but I fear it must be by proxy.--Pray make my respects
to Mrs. Matilda--I hope she enjoys every thing that her parents wish
her.--I shall dine with Mr. Jacob some day this week--I saw him at
Dodd’s chapel yesterday--and, if his countenance is to be believed,
he was very well--I could not get at him to speak to him.--As soon as
we can get a bit of house, we shall begin to look sharp for a bit of
bread--I have strong hope--the more children, the more blessings--and
if it please the Almighty to spare me from the gout, I verily think
the happiest part of my life is to come--soap, starch, and blue, with
raisins, figs, &c.--we shall cut a respectable figure--in our printed
cards.--Pray make my best wishes to Mr. H----; tell him I revere his
whole family, which is doing honor to myself.--I had a letter of yours
to answer, which I should have done before, had my manners been equal
to my esteem.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in respectful love and thanks. I
remain ever your much obliged servant to command,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.



LETTER XVII.

TO MRS. H----.


  February 9, 1774.

IT is the most puzzling affair in nature, to a mind that labours under
obligations, to know how to express its feelings;--your former tender
solicitude for my well-doing--and your generous remembrance in the
present order--appear friendly beyond the common actions of those
we in general style good sort of people;--but I will not teaze you
with my nonsensical thanks--for I believe such kind of hearts as you
are blest with have sufficient reward in the consciousness of acting
humanely.--I opened shop on Saturday the 29th of January--and have met
with a success truly flattering;--it shall be my study and constant
care not to forfeit the good opinion of my friends.--I have pleasure
in congratulating you upon Mrs. W----’s happy delivery and pleasing
increase of her family;--it is the hope and wish of my heart--that
your comforts in all things may multiply with your years--that
in the certain great end--you may immerge without pain--full of
hope--from corruptible pleasure--to immortal and incorruptible
life--happiness without end--and past all human comprehension;--there
may you and I--and all we love (or care for) meet!--the follies--the
parties--distinctions--feuds of ambition--enthusiasm--lust--and anger
of this miserable motley world--all totally forgot--every idea lost,
and absorbed in the blissful mansions of redeeming love.

I have not seen Sir Jacob near a fortnight--but hope and conclude
him well.--R---- is well, and grows very fat--an easy mind--full
purse--and a good table--great health--and much indulgence--all these
conduce terribly to plumpness.--I must beg, when you see Mr. ----, if
not improper or inconvenient, that you will inform him--that where
there is but little--every little helps;--I think he is too humane to
be offended at the liberty--and too honest to be displeased with a
truth.--I am, with greatful thanks to Mr. H----, your sincerely humble
servant and poor friend,

  I. SANCHO.


My best half and Sanchonetta’s are all well.



LETTER XVIII.

TO MR. S----.


  Charles Street, Nov. 26, 1774.

YOUNG says, “A friend is the balsam of life”--Shakespear says,--but
why should I pester you with quotations?--to shew you the depth of my
erudition, and strut like the fabled bird in his borrowed plumage. In
good honest truth, my friend--I rejoice to see thy name at the bottom
of the instructive page--and were fancy and invention as much my
familiar friends as they are thine--I would write thee an answer--or
try, at least, as agreeably easy--and as politely simple.--Mark
that; simplicity is the characteristic of good writing--which I have
learnt, among many other good things, of your Honor--and for which I
am proud to thank you;--in short I would write like you--think like
you (of course); and do like you; but, as that is impossible, I must
content myself with my old trick;--now what that trick is--thou art
ignorant--and so thou shalt remain--till I congratulate you upon
your recovery.--_A propos_, you began your letter ill, as we do
many things in common life;--ten days elapsed before you finished
it--consequently you finished it well.--My dear friend, may you,
thro’ God’s blessing, ever finish happily what you undertake--however
unpromising the beginning may appear to be!--I want you much in
town--for my one sake--that’s a stroke of self-love.--And do you mean
to bring any candles up with you?--that’s another!--I do not wonder
at your making your way amongst the folks of Hull--although there
are four of the same profession;--we love variety.--I will give them
credit for admiring the Artist;--but if they--that is two or three
of them--have penetration to look deeper--and love the Man--then I
shall believe that there are souls in Hull.--So--my cramp epistle fell
into the hands of thy good and reverend farther--_tant pis_--why,
he must think me blacker than I am.--Mons. B---- goes on well:--I
suppose you know he has opened an Academy in St. Alban’s Street--at
two guineas a year--naked figures three nights a week--Mr. Mortimer
and several eminent names upon his list--and room left for yours--he
hops about with that festivity of countenance which denotes peace
and good-will to man.--I have added to my felicity--or Fortune more
properly has--three worthy friends--they are admirers and friends of
Mortimer and Sterne;--but of this when we meet.--You are expected at
B---- House upon your return--and I hope you will call on them, if
consistent with your time--and agreeable to you.--My friend L---- is
in town, and intends trying his fortune among us--as teacher of murder
and neck-breaking--alias--fencing and riding.--The Tartars, I believe,
have few fine gentlemen among them--and they can ride--though they have
neither fencing nor riding masters;--and as to genteel murder--we are
mere pedlars and novices--for they can dispatch a whole caravan--or
a hoorde--and eat and drink--wench and laugh--and, in truth, so far
they can match our modern fine gents.;--they have no acquaintance with
conscience--but what’s all this to you?--nothing--it helps to fill up
the sheet--and looks like moralizing;--the good-natured partiality of
thy honest heart will deem it--not absolutely nonsense.--Alas!--thus it
often happens--that the judgement of a good head is--bum-fiddled--and
wrong-biass’d by the weakness of a too kind heart;--under that same
weakness let me shelter my failings and absurdities--and let me boast
at this present writing--that my heart is not very depraved--and has
this proof of not being dead to virtue;--it beats stronger at the sound
of friendship--and will be sincerely attached to W---- S----, Esq;
while its pulsations continue to throb in the brest of your obliged

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


Do pray think about returning--the captain--the girls--the house--the
court, stand all--just where they did--when you left them.--Alas! Time
leaves the marks of his rough fingers upon all things--Time shrivels
female faces--and sours small-beer--gives insignificance, if not
impotency, to trunk-hose--and toughness to cow-beef.--Alas! alas!
alas!--



LETTER XIX.

TO MRS. C----.


  Charles Street, July 4, 1775.

  DEAR MADAM,

IT would be affronting your good-nature to offer an excuse for the
trouble I am going to give you--my tale is short.--Mrs. O---- is
with us--she was, this day, observing poor Lydia with a good deal of
compassion--and said, she knew a child cured by roses boiled in new
milk;--observed, that you had, at this very time, perhaps bushels of
rose-leaves wasting on the ground.--Now my petition is--that you would
cause a few of them to be brought you--(they will blush to find their
sweetness excelled by your kindness)--they are good dryed, but better
fresh--so when you come to town think of honest Lydia.--Mrs. O---- this
morning saw your picture in Bond Street.--She approves much--and I
fancy means to sit--she thinks that you enriched me with the strongest
likeness--but the whole length the best.--I have the honor to transmit
the compliments of Mesdames A---- and Sancho--to which permit me to
add mine, with the most grateful sensibility for the recent favor of
favors.--I am, dear madam,

  Your most obliged,
  humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XX.

TO MISS L----.


  July 26, 1775.

  DEAR MADAM,

I HAVE just now had the pleasure of seeing a Gentleman who is honoured
in calling you sister.--He suspended the pain in my foot for full
five minutes, by the pleasing account he gave of your health.--I
delivered my charge[2] safe into his hands--he viewed it with an
eye of complacency--from which I conclude he is not unworthy your
sister’s hand;--we commonly behold those with a sort of partiality who
bring good tidings from our friends--in that view I could not forbear
thinking him a very good kind of man. I have to thank you for a very
obliging and friendly letter--which I should have done much sooner,
could I have complied with your kind wishes in giving a better account
of myself;--my better self has been but poorly for some time--she
groans with the rheumatism--and I grunt with the gout--a pretty
concert!--Life is thick-sown with troubles--and we have no right to
exemption.--The children, thank God! are well--your name-sake gets
strength every day--and trots about amazingly.--I am reading Bossuet’s
Universal History, which I admire beyond any thing I have long met
with: if it lays in your way, I would wish you to read it, if you have
not already--and if you have, it is worth a second perusal. Mrs. Sancho
rejoices to hear you are well--and intrusts me to send you her best
wishes.--I hope you continue your riding--and should like to see your
_etiquette_ of hat, feather, and habit. Adieu.--May you enjoy every
wish of your benevolent heart--is the hope and prayer of your much
obliged humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.


If the Universal History of Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, and Preceptor to
Louis XV. should be difficult to find at Tunbridge--when you return
to town, and give us the pleasure of seeing you--he will be exceeding
proud of the happiness (and what Frenchman would not,--although a
bishop?) of riding to Bond Street in your pockets.

[2] Miss L----’s picture.



LETTER XXI.

TO MISS L----.


  Charles Street, June 20, 1775.

I PROTEST, my dear Madam, there is nothing so dangerous to the
calm philosophic temper of fifty--as a friendly epistle from a
pretty young woman;--but when worth--benevolence--and a train of
amiabilities--easier felt than described--join in the attack,--the
happy receiver of such an epistle must feel much in the same manner
as your humble servant did this day;--but I did not mean to write
a starch complimentary letter--and I believe you will think I have
flourished rather too much;--here then I recover my wits--and the first
use I make of them is to thank you, in Mrs. Sancho’s name, for your
friendly enquiries--and to assure you, we both rejoice that you had so
pleasant a passage--and that you enjoy your health. We hope also, that
your young gallant will repay your humane attentions--with grateful
regard--and dutiful attachment.--I beg your pardon, over and over, for
my blundering forgetfulness of your kind order--it was occasioned by
being obliged to say goodbye.--Taking leave of those we esteem is, in
my opinion, unpleasant!--the parting of friends is a kind of temporary
mourning. Mrs. Sancho is but indifferent--the hot weather does not
befriend her--but time will, I hope;--if true worth could plead an
exemption from pain and sickness--Miss L---- and Mrs. Sancho would,
by right divine, enjoy the best health--but, God be blessed! there
is a reward in store for both, and all like them--which will amply
repay them for the evils and cross accidents of this foolish world. I
saw Miss and Mrs. S----, and Johnny, at church last Sunday--they all
looked pleasant, and told me they had heard you were well.--I would
recommend a poem, which, if you have not, you should read--it is called
Almeria; I have not read it--but have heard such an account of it as
makes me suspect it will be worth your notice. This end of the town
is fairly Regatta-mad--and the prices they ask are only five shillings
each seat.--They are building scaffoldings on Westminster-hall--and the
prayers of all parties is now for a fine evening--May your evenings be
ever fair--and mornings bright! I should have said nights happy--all in
God’s good time! which, you must be convinced, is the best time.--Lydia
mends--she walks a little--we begin to encourage hope--Kitty is as
lively as ever--and almost goes alone--the rest are well.--Mrs. Sancho
joins me in cordial wishes for your health and wealth.--I am, dear
Madam,

  Your most sincere friend,
  and obliged humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXII.

TO MR. R----.


  MY DEAR FRIEND,

THOU hast an honest sympathizing heart--and I am sure will feel
sorrow to hear poor Mr. W---- has paid the debt to Nature:--last
Sunday heaven gained a worthy soul--and the world lost an honest
man!--a Christian!--a friend to merit--a father to the poor and
society--a man, whose least praise was his wit--and his meanest virtue,
good-humour;--he is gone to his great reward;--may you, and all I love
and honor, in God’s good time, join him!--I wish to hear about you--how
you all do--when you saw Johnny--and whether Mrs. O---- holds in the
same mind--if so, she is on the road for London, and Johnny on the
road for B----. Pray have you heard from Mr. L----? A spruce Frenchman
brought me a letter from him on Thursday; he left him well and in
spirits--he wishes we would enquire for a place for him--he longs to be
in England;--he is an honest soul, and I should feel true pleasure in
serving him;--pray remember he wants a place.--I know not what words to
use in way of thanks to Mrs. C----, for the very valuable present of
her picture.--I have wrote to her--but my pen is not able to express
what I feel--and I think Mr. Gardner has hit off her likeness exceeding
well;--my chimney-piece now--fairly imitates the times--a flashy fine
outside--the only intrinsic nett worth, in my possession, is Mrs.
Sancho--whom I can compare to nothing so properly as to a diamond in
the dirt--but, my friend, that is Fortune’s fault, not mine--for had
I power, I would case her in gold.--When heard you from our friend
Mr. J---- N----? when you see or write to him--tell him we still care
for him--and remember his easy good-nature and natural politeness,--I
will trouble you with the inclosed without any ceremony--for I have
been so often obliged to you, that I begin now to fancy I have a
right to trouble you. Commend me to squire S----, and all worthy
friends.--Lydia sends her love to you--she trots about amazingly--and
Kitty imitates her, with this addition, that she is as mischievous as
a monkey.--Mrs. Sancho, Mrs. M----, and Mrs. B----, all think well of
you, as well as yours.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XXIII.

TO MRS. C----.


  Charles Street, July 31, 1775.

  DEAR MADAM,

IF aught upon earth could make mortals happy--I have the best right to
believe myself so.--I have lived with the great--and been favoured by
beauty--I have cause to be vain--let that apologize for my boasting.
I am to thank you for the best ornament of my chimney-piece--your
picture, which I had the joy to receive from Mr. Gardner, and which
(exclusive of the partiality I have to your resemblance) I think a very
good one;--it proves, unquestionably, three things--your goodness--Mr.
Gardner’s skill--and my impudence!--in wishing so pleasing a prize.--If
Kitty should live to woman’s estate--she will exultingly tell
folks--that’s my godmother’s picture!--and the next generation will
swear the painter was a flatterer--and scarce credit there was ever a
countenance so amiably sweet--in the days of George the Third--except a
Hamilton or Lady Sarah.--Mrs. Sancho desires her thanks may be joined
with mine--as the thanks of one flesh.--Mr. M---- is well--and hopes,
in concert with the Sanchos, that you had a pleasant journey--and
good health your companion.--That health and pleasure--with love and
friendship in its train--may ever accompany you--is the wish, dear
Madam, of your greatly obliged humble servant,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.



LETTER XXIV.

TO MISS L----.


  Charles Street, August, 7, 1775.

I NEVER can excuse intolerable scrawls--and I do tell you, that for
writing conversable letters you are wholly unfit--no talent--no
nature--no style;--stiff--formal and unintelligible;--take that--for
your apology--and learn to be honest to yourself.--The Dutchess
of Kingston and Mr. Foote have joined in a spirited paper-war--(I
should have said engaged)--but I fear her Grace will have the worst
of it:--had she either the heart or head of our friend Miss L----, I
should pity her from my soul--and should muster up gallantry enough
to draw a pen (at least) in her defence; as it is--I think--in
principles they are well-matched;--but as her Grace appears to me to
want temper--I think the Wit will be too hard for her. I am pleased
with the Tunbridgians for their respectful loyalty on his Royal
Highness’s birth day;--it is too much the fashion to treat the Royal
Family with disrespect.--Zeal for politics has almost annihilated good
manners.--Mrs. Sancho feels the kindness of your good wishes;--but
we hope you will be in town before she tumbles in the straw, when a
Benjamin mess of caudle will meet your lips with many welcomes.--Mrs.
Sancho is so, so--not so alert as I have known her;--but I shall
be glad she holds just as well till she is down--My silly gout is
not in haste to leave me--I am in my seventh week--and in truth am
peevish--and sick of its company.--As to Dr. D----, the last I heard
of him was, that he was in France;--he has not preached for these nine
Sundays at Pimlico.--You did not tell me the name of your Suffolk
preacher;--I fancy it is Dr. W--ll--ton--who is reckoned equal to
D----; I am glad you have him--as I would wish you to have every thing
that God can give you conducive to your love and pleasure.--Mrs.
Sancho joins me in respects and thanks--good wishes, &c. &c.

  I am, dear Madam,
  Your ever obliged, humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXV.

TO MR. B----.


  August 12, 1775.

  DEAR SIR,

IF I knew a better man than yourself--you would not have had this
application--which is in behalf of a merry, chirping, white-toothed,
clean, tight, and light, little fellow!--with a woolly pate--and face
as dark as your humble;--Guiney-born, and French-bred--the sulky
gloom of Africa dispelled by Gallic vivacity--and that softened again
with English sedateness--a rare fellow!--rides well--and can look
upon a couple of horses--dresses hair in the present taste--shaves
light--and understands something of the arrangement of a table and
side-board;--his present master will authenticate him a decent
character--he leaves him at his own (Blacky’s) request:--he has served
him three years--and, like Teague, would be glad of a good master--if
any good master would be glad of him.--As I believe you associate
chiefly with good-hearted folks--it is possible your interest may be of
service to him.--I like the rogue’s looks, or a similarity of colour
should not have induced me to recommend him.--Excuse this little scrawl
from your friend, &c.

  +Ignatius Sancho.+


    “For conscience, like a fiery horse,
    “Will stumble if you check his course;
    “But ride him with an easy rein,
    “And rub him down with worldly gain,
    “He’ll carry you through thick and thin,
    “Safe, although dirty, to your Inn.”



LETTER XXVI.

TO MRS. C----.


  August 14, 1775.

  DEAR MADAM,

I AM happy in hearing that the bathing and drinking has been of
real service to you.--I imagine you rise out of the waves another
Venus--and could wish myself Neptune, to have the honor of escorting
you to land.--Mr. P---- has sent me a pretty turtle, and in very good
condition.--I must beg you will do me the honor to accept of it;--it
will attend you at Privy Gardens, where (had turtles a sense of
ambition) it would think itself happy in its destination.--Pray my best
respects to their honors R---- and Squire S----. I live in hopes of
seeing you all next week.

  I am, dear Madam,
  Your much obliged,
  humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXVII.

TO MISS L----.


  August 27, 1775.

JUST upon the stroke of eleven--as I was following (like a good
husband) Mrs. Sancho to bed--a thundering rap called me to the
street-door--A letter from Tunbridge, Sir!--thanks many thanks--good
night.--I hugged the fair stranger--and--as soon as up stairs--broke
open the seal with friendly impatience--and got decently trimmed, for
what? why, truly, for having more honesty than prudence.--Well, if
ever I say a civil thing again to any of your sex--but it is foolish
to be rash in resolves--seriously, if aught at any time slips from my
unguarded pen, which you may deem censurable--believe me truly and
honestly--it is the error of uncultivated nature--and I will trust
the candour of friendship to wink at undesigned offence;--not but
I could defend--and would against any but yourself--the whole sad
charge of flattery--but enough.--I paid a visit in Bond Street this
morning.--Your sister looked health itself--she was just returned
from the country, and had the pleasure to hear from you at her first
entrance.

Your friendly offer for the little stranger is in character--but if I
was to say what my full heart would dictate--you would accuse me of
flattery.--Mrs. Sancho is more than pleased--I won’t say what I am--but
if you love to give pleasure, you have your will.--Are you not pleased
to find Miss Butterfield innocent?--It does credit to my judgement,
for I never believed her guilty--her trial proves undeniably that one
half of the faculty are very ignorant.--I hear she intends suing for
damages--and if ever any one had a right to recover, she certainly
has;--and were I to decree them--they should not be less than 400_l._
a year for life, and 5000 pound down by way of smart-money.--In my
opinion, the D----ss of K---- is honoured, to be mentioned in the same
paper with Miss Butterfield--You should read the St. James’s Evening
papers for last week--you will easily get them at any coffee-house--the
affair is too long for a letter--but I will send you some black poetry
upon the occasion:

    With Satire, Wit, and Humour arm’d,
    Foote opes his exhibitions;
    High-titled Guilt, justly alarm’d,
    The Chamberlain petitions.

    My Lord, quoth Guilt, this daring fiend
    Won’t let us sin in private;
    To his presumption there’s no end,
    Both high and low he’ll drive at.

    Last year he smoak’d the cleric[3] gown;
    A D----ss now he’d sweat.
    The insolent, for half a crown,
    Would libel all the Great.

    What I can do, his Lordship cries,
    Command you freely may:
    Don’t licence him, the Dame replies,
    Nor let him print his play.

Poor Lydia is exceedingly unwell.--They who have least sensibility
are best off for this world.--By the visit I was able to make this
morning--you may conclude, my troublesome companion is about taking
leave. May you know no pains but of sensibility!--and may you be ever
able to relieve where you wish!--May the wise and good esteem you more
than I do--and the object of your heart love you, as well as you love
a good and kind action!--These wishes--after the trimming you gave in
your last--is a sort of heaping coals on your head--as such, accept it
from your sincere--aye, and _honest_ friend,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho says little--but her moistened eye expresses--that she
feels your friendship.

[3] Dr. Dodd.



LETTER XXVIII.

TO MISS. L----.


  Sept. 12, 1775.

THERE is nothing in nature more vexatious than contributing to the
uneasiness of those, whose partiality renders them anxious for our
well-doing--the honest heart dilates with rapture when it can happily
contribute pleasure to its friends. You see by this that I am coxcomb
enough to suppose me and mine of consequence!--but if it is so--it
is such as you whose partial goodness have grafted that folly on
my natural trunk of dulness.--I am, in truth, in a very unfit mood
for writing--for poor Lydia is very so, so--Mrs. Sancho not very
stout;--and for me, I assure you, that of my pair of feet--two are
at this instant in pain! This is the worst side--but courage! Hope!
delusive cheating Hope! beckons Self-love, and enlists him of her
side--and, together, use their friendly eloquence to persuade me that
better times are coming.--Your beloved wife (cries Self-love) will have
a happy time, and be up soon, strong and hearty.--Your child (cries
Hope) will get the better of her illness--and grow up a blessing and
comfort to your evening life--and your friend will soon be in town,
and enliven your winter prospects.--Trust, trust in the Almighty--his
providence is your shield--’tis his love, ’tis his mercy, which has
hitherto supported and kept you up.--See, see! cries Hope! look where
Religion, with Faith on her right, and Charity on her left, and a
numerous train of blessings in her rear, come to thy support.--Fond
foolish mortal, leave complaining--all will be right--all is
right.--Adieu, my good friend--write me something, to chase away idle
fears, and to strengthen hope.--Too true it is, that where the tender
passions are concerned, our sex are cowards.

  Yours sincerely,

  I. SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho sends her best wishes.



LETTER XXIX.

TO MISS L----.


  Charles Street, Oct. 4, 1775.

    Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclin’d,
    ’Tis education forms the tender mind.

  So says +Pope+.

    Children like tender osiers take the bow,
    And as they first are fashoned, always grow.

  +Dryden.+

THE sense of each is just the same, and they both prove an opinion
which I have long been grounded in--that the errors of most children
proceed in great part from the ill cultivation of the first
years.--Self-love, my friend, bewitches parents to give too much
indulgence to infantine foibles;--the constant cry is, “Poor little
soul, it knows no better!”--if it swears--that’s a sign of wit and
spirit;--if it fibs--it’s so cunning and comical;--if it steals--’tis
only a paw trick--and the mother exultingly cries--My Jacky is so
sharp, we can keep nothing from him!--Well! but what’s all this to
you?--You are no mother.--True, my sincerely esteemed friend, but
you are something as good--you are perhaps better--much better and
wiser I am sure than many mothers I have seen.--You, who believe
in the true essence of the gospel--who visit the sick, cover the
naked, and withdraw not your ear from the unfortunate:--but I did
not intend to write your elogium--it requires the pen of one less
interested--and perhaps less partiality and more judgement would also
be requisite.--Jacky S---- is the occasion of this prefatory vast shew
of learning. I do believe him a fine child spoil’d for want of proper
management--he is just now in high disgrace--he is wrong enough in all
conscience, I believe--but are they, who are about him, right?--We will
talk about this matter when I have the pleasure of seeing you;--you
shall forgive my impertinent meddling--I will ask pardon, and sin
again--so we serve Heaven--so complain, if you dare.--Mrs. Sancho is
yet up;--if I pray at all, it’s for the blessing of a happy moment,
with little pain for her;--as to what she brings, I care not about its
sex--God grant health to the mother!--and my soul and lips shall bless
his holy name.--We cannot remove till after Mrs. Sancho is up.--The
house will not be ready till towards Christmas, which is not the most
desirable time of the year for moving--but we must do as we can, not as
we would.

At Charlotte Chapel, we had last Sunday a most excellent discourse
from Mr. H----n, whom I suppose you have heard preach--if not, he is
well worth hearing--to please me--for to the best of my knowledge,
he reads prayers better than most--Mr. B---- not excepted; there
is a dignity of expression in his Psalms, which catches the whole
attention--and such an animated strength of devotion in his Litany,
as almost carries the heart to the gates of Heaven--he is fine in the
pulpit;--but comparisons are unfair--if H---- reads prayers, and D----
preaches, at the same church--I should suppose greater perfection
could not be found in England.--I have to thank you for the honor of
your correspondence--and can laugh in my sleeve like a Dutch Jew--to
think that I get sterling sense for my farrago of absurdities--but you
will, I hope, soon be in town.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in every sentiment
of gratitude and sincerity.--I am, as much as a poor African can be,
sincerely

  Yours to command,

  IGN. SANCHO


We are in great hopes about poor Lydia.--An honest and ingenious
motherly woman in our neighbourhood has undertaken the perfect cure of
her--and we have every reason to think, with God’s blessing--she will
succeed--which is a blessing we shall owe entirely to the comfort of
being poor--for, had we been rich, the doctors would have had the honor
of killing her a twelvemonth ago.----Adieu.



LETTER XXX.

TO MISS L----.


  Thursday Morning, Oct. 16, 1775.

MY worthy and respected friend, I hear, has protracted her stay.--I
am greatly obliged to Miss L----’s goodness, who has given me this
opportuity of addressing my good friend.--I am very low in heart--poor
Mrs. Sancho is so indifferent--and Lydia, though upon the whole better,
yet weak and poorly.--I am sufficiently acquainted with care--and I
think fatten upon calamity.--Philosophy is best practised, I believe,
by the easy and affluent.--One ounce of practical religion is worth
all that ever the Stoics wrote.--Mrs. Sancho smiles in the pains which
it has pleased Providence to try her with--and her belief in a better
existence is her cordial drop,--Adieu; bring health with you, and the
sight of you will glad us all.

  Yours,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXI.

TO MR. R----.


  Oct. 18, 1775.

I BEGIN to fear with you that our friend L---- is sick or
married--or--what I would rather hope--is on his way to England.--Thanks
to our Suffolk friends--you take care we shall not starve.--I
was for five minutes, when dinner was on table, suspended, in
inclination, like the ass between the two loads of hay--the turtle
pulled one way, and a sweet loin of pork the other--I was obliged to
attack both in pure self-defence;--Mrs. Sancho eat--and praised the
pork--and praised the giver.--Let it not, my worthy R----, mortify
thy pride--to be obliged to divide praise with a pig; we all echoed
her--O---- and R---- were the toasts--I know not in truth two honester
or better men--were your incomes as enlarged as your hearts, you would
be the two greatest fortunes in Europe. But I wrote merely to thank
you--and to say Mrs Sancho and Mrs. M---- are both better than when
I wrote last night--in short, Mrs. M---- is quite well--I pray God
to send my dear Mrs. Sancho safe down and happily up--she makes the
chief ingredient of my felicity--whenever my good friend marries--I
hope he will find it the same with him--My best respects to Mesdames
C. and C. and take care of my brother.--I fear this will be a raking
week.--Compliments to Master S---- and the noble Mr. B----.

  Yours, &c.

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXII.

TO MR. L----.


  Friday, Oct. 20, 1774.

IN obedience to my amiable friend’s request--I, with gratitude to the
Almighty--and with pleasure to her--(I am sure I am right)--acquaint
her, that my ever dear Dame Sancho was exactly at half past one
this afternoon delivered of a--child.--Mrs. Sancho, my dear Miss
L----, is as well as can be expected--in truth, better than I feared
she would be--for indeed she has been very unwell for this month
past--I feel myself a ton lighter:--In the morning I was crazy with
apprehension--and now I talk nonsense through joy.--This plaguy scrawl
will cost you I know not what--but it’s not my fault--’tis your foolish
godson’s--who, by me, tenders his dutiful respects. I am ever yours to
command, sincerely and affectionately,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXIII.

TO MISS L----.


  Charles Street, Dec. 14, 1775.

THERE is something inexpressibly flattering in the notion of your
being warmer--from the idea of your much obliged friend’s caring
for you;--in truth we could not help caring about you--our thoughts
travelled with you over-night from Bond Street to the Inn.--The next
day at noon--“Well, now she’s above half way--alas! no, she will not
get home till Saturday night--I wonder what companions she has met
with--there is a magnetism in goodnature, which will ever attract its
like--so if she meets with beings the least social--but that’s as
chance wills!”--Well, night arrives--“And now our friend has reached
the open arms of parental love--excess of delightful endearments gives
place to tranquil enjoyments--and all are happy in the pleasure they
give each other!”--Were I a Saint or a Bishop, and was to pass by your
door, I would stop, and say, “Peace be upon this dwelling!”--and what
richer should I leave it?--for I trust, where a good man dwells, there
peace makes its sweet abode.--When you have read Bossuet, you will
find at the end, that it was greatly wished the learned author had
brought the work down lower--but I cannot help thinking he concluded
his design as far as he originally meant.--Mrs. Sancho, thank Heaven,
is as well as you left her, and your godson thrives;--he is the type
of his father--fat--heavy--sleepy;--but as he is the head of the
noble family, and your godson, I ought not to disparage him.----The
Dutchess of K---- is so unwell, that she has petitioned for a longer
day:--they say that her intellects are hurt;--though a bad woman, she
is entitled to pity.--Conscience, the high chancellor of the human
breast, whose small still voice speaks terror to the guilty--Conscience
has pricked her;--and, with all her wealth and titles, she is an
object of pity.--Health attend you and yours!--Pleasure of course will
follow.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in all I say, and the girls look their
assent.--I remain--God forgive me! I was going to conclude, without
ever once thanking you for your goodness in letting us hear from you
so early:--there is such a civil coldness in writing, a month perhaps
after expectation has been snuffed out, that the very thought is enough
to chill friendship;--but you--like your sister Charity, as Thomson
sweetly paints her (smiling through tears)--delight in giving pleasure,
and joy in doing good.--And now farewell--and believe us, in truth,
our dear Miss L----’s

  obliged and grateful friends,

  +ANNE+ and +I. SANCHO+.



LETTER XXXIV.

TO MR. M----.


  Jan. 4, 1776.

I KNOW not what predominates in my worthy friend--pride or
good-nature;--don’t stare--you have a large share of both:--happy it
is for you--as well as your acquaintance--that your pride is so well
accompanied by the honest ardor of youthful benevolence.--You would,
like the fabled pelican--feed your friends with your vitals. Blessed
Philanthropy!--Oh! the delights of making happy--the bliss of giving
comfort to the afflicted--peace to the distressed mind--to prevent the
request from the quivering lips of indigence!--But, great God!--the
inexpressible delight--the not-to-be-described rapture, in soothing,
and _convincing_ the tender virgin that “_You alone_,” &c. &c. &c.
(Prior’s Henry and Emma see.)--But I think you dropt a word or two
about flattery.--Sir,--honest friend,--know, once for all--I never yet
thought you a coxcomb:--a man of sense I dare not flatter, my pride
forbids it;--a coxcomb is not worth the dirty pains.--You have (through
the bounty of your great Creator) strong parts, and, thank the Almighty
Goodness, an honest sincere heart;--yes, you have many and rare
talents, which you have cultivated with success:--you have much fire,
which, under the guidance of a circumspect judgement, stimulates you to
worthy acts;--but do not say that I flatter in speaking the truth;--I
can see errors even in those I half reverence;--there are spots in the
Sun--and perhaps some faults in Johnny M----, who is by far too kind,
generous, and friendly, to his greatly obliged friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.


P. S. I tell you what--(are you not coming to town soon?)--F---- and
venison are good things; but by the manes of my ancestors--I had rather
have the pleasure of gossipation with your sublime highness.--What
sketches have you taken?--What books have you read?--What lasses
gallanted?--The venison is exceeding fine, and the cleanest I ever
saw;--to-morrow we dress it;--a thankful heart shall be our sweet
sauce:--were you in town, your partaking of it would add to its
relish.--You say I was not in spirits when you saw me at G----; why,
it might be so--in spight of my philosophy--the cares and anxieties
attendant on a large family and small finances sometimes overcloud the
natural chearfulness of yours truly,

  I. SANCHO.


N. B. A very short P---- S----.



LETTER XXXV.

TO MR. R----.


  June 25, 1776.

YOU had a pleasant day for your journey--and after five or six miles
ride from town--you left the dust behind you;--of course the road and
the country also improved as you drew nearer B----. I will suppose you
there--and then I will suppose you found Mrs. C---- well in health, and
the better for the preceding day’s motion;--she and Miss C---- meet
you with the looks of a Spring-morning--I see you meet in fancy;--I
wish I could see you in reality;--but of that hereafter.--I want to
know how Mrs. C---- does--and what Miss C---- does;--what you intend
to do--and what Mr. S---- will never do.--This letter is a kind of
much-ado-about--what--I must not say nothing--because the ladies
are mentioned in it.--Mr. and Mrs. B---- have a claim to my best
respects.--Pray say what’s decent for me--and to the respectable table
also--beginning with my true friend Mrs. C----, and then steering right
and left--ending at last with your worship. Tell Mrs. C---- that Kitty
is as troublesome as ever; that Billy gets heavier and stronger.--Mrs.
Sancho remains, thank God, very well--and all the rest ditto.--Let
me know how you all do--and how brother O---- does.--As to news,
all I hear is about Wilkes;--he will certainly carry his point--for
Administration are all strongly in his interest:--betts run much in
his favor:--for my part, I really think he will get it--if he can once
manage so--as to gain the majority.--I am, my dear R----, yours--(much
more than Wilkes’s--or indeed any man’s, O----’s excepted) in love and
zeal,

  Ever faithfully,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXVI.

TO MR. STERNE.


  July, 1776.

  REVEREND SIR,

IT would be an insult to your humanity (or perhaps look like it) to
aplogize for the liberty I am taking.--I am one of those people whom
the vulgar and illiberal call “_Negurs_.”--The first part of my life
was rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family who judged ignorance
the best and only security for obedience.--A little reading and
writing I got by unwearied application.--The latter part of my life
has been--through God’s blessing, truly fortunate, having spent it in
the service of the best families in the kingdom.--My chief pleasure
has been books.--Philanthropy I adore.--How very much, good Sir, am I
(amongst millions) indebted to you for the character of your amiable
uncle Toby!--I declare, I would walk ten miles in the dog-days, to
shake hands with the honest corporal.--Your Sermons have touched me
to the heart, and I hope have amended it, which brings me to the
point.--In your tenth discourse, page seventy-eight, in the second
volume--is this very affecting passage:--“Consider how great a part of
our species--in all ages down to this--have been trod under the feet
of cruel and capricious tyrants, who would neither hear their cries,
nor pity their distresses.--Consider slavery--what it is--how bitter
a draught--and how many millions are made to drink it!”--Of all my
favourite authors, not one has drawn a tear in favour of my miserable
black brethren--excepting yourself, and the humane author of Sir George
Ellison.--I think you will forgive me;--I am sure you will applaud
me for beseeching you to give one half-hour’s attention to slavery,
as it is at this day practised in our West Indies.--That subject,
handled in your striking manner, would ease the yoke (perhaps) of
many;--but if only of one--Gracious God!--what a feast to a benevolent
heart!--and, sure I am, you are an Epicurean in acts of charity.--You,
who are universally read, and as universally admired--you could
not fail.--Dear Sir, think in me you behold the uplifted hands of
thousands of my brother Moors.--Grief (you pathetically observe) is
eloquent;--figure to yourself their attitudes;--hear their supplicating
addresses!--Alas!--you cannot refuse.--Humanity must comply--in which
hope I beg permission to subscribe myself,

  Reverend Sir, &c.

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXVII.

TO MR. M----.


  August 12, 1776.

  “We have left undone the things we should have done,” &c. &c.----

THE general confession--with a deep sense of our own frailties--joined
to penitence--and strong intentions of better doing--insures poor
sinners forgiveness, obliterates the past, sweetens the present, and
brightens the future;--in short, we are to hope that it reconciles us
with the Deity;--and if that conclusion is just, it must certainly
reconcile us in part to each other.--Grant me that, dear M----,
and you have no quarrel towards me for epistolary omissions:--look
about you, my dear friend, with a fault-searching eye--and see what
you have left undone!--Look on your chair!--those cloaths should
have been brushed and laid by--that linen sent to wash--those shoes
to be cleaned.--Zooks! why you forget to say your prayers--to take
your physick--to wash your ----. Pray how does Mrs. H----? Lord what
a deal of rain! I declare I fear it will injure the harvest.--And
when saw you Nancy?--Has the cat kittened?--I suppose you have
heard the news:--great news!--a glorious affair! (and is two _ff’s_
necessary?)--O! Lord, Sir!--very little bloodshed--pity _any_
should--how!--do not you admire!--How so?--Why this, Sir, is writing,
’tis the true sublime--and this the stuff that gives my friend
M---- pleasure:--thou vile flatterer! blush! blush up to thine
eyelids!--I am happy to think I have found a flaw in thee:--thou art
a flatterer of the most dangerous sort, because agreeable.--I have
often observed--there is more of value in the manner of doing the
thing--than in the thing itself--my mind’s eye follows you in the
selecting the pretty box--in arranging the pickled fruit.--I see you
fix on the lid, drive the last nail, your countenance lit up with
glee, and your heart exulting in the pleasure you were about giving
to the family of the Sancho’s--and then snatch the hat and stick, and
walk with the easy alacrity of a soul conscious of good.--But hold,
Sir, you were rather saucy in a part or two of your letter:--for which
reason I shall not thank you for the fruit;--the good woman and brats
may--and with reason; for they devoured them: the box, indeed, is worth
thanks; which, if God, gout, and weather permit, you may probably hear
something of on Sunday next, from yours, with all your sins, &c. &c.

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XXXVIII.

TO MR. K----.


  August 28, 1776

  MY WORTHY FRIEND,

I SHOULD have answered your billet as soon as received--but I wanted
to know the quantum that I was to wish you joy of--as nothing has yet
for certainty transpired.--I will hope your legacy from Mrs. ---- is
handsome:--you can easily imagine the pleasure I felt--in finding
she had so amply remembered poor Mrs. M----. That one act has more
true generosity in it, aye, and justice perhaps, than any thing I
ever knew of her in her long life:--it has removed an anxiety from
me which (in spite of self-felt poverty--and the heart-felt cares
of a large family) troubled me greatly;--as to myself, she used to
promise largely formerly, that she would think of me:--as I never
believed--I was not disappointed.--More and more convinced of the
futility of all our eagerness after worldly riches, my prayer and hope
is only for bread, and to be enabled to pay what I owe. I labour up
hill against many difficuties; but God’s goodness is my support, and
his word my trust.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in her best wishes, and gives
you joy also: the children are well--William grows, and tries his
feet briskly--and Fanny goes on well in her tambour-work;--Mary must
learn some business or other--if we can possibly atchieve money;--but
we have somehow no friends--and, bless God!--we deserve no enemies.
Trade is duller than ever I knew it--and money scarcer;--foppery runs
higher--and vanity stronger;--extravagance is the adored idol of this
sweet town.--You are a happy being;--free from the cares of the world
in your own person--you enjoy more than your master--or his master into
the bargain.--May your comforts know no diminution, but increase with
your years!--and may the same happen, when it shall please God, to your
sincere friend I. Sancho and his family!



LETTER XXXIX.

TO MR. M----.


  September 1, 1776.

YOU have the happiest manner of obliging!--How comes it that--without
the advantages of a twentieth generationship of noble blood flowing
uncontaminated in your veins--without the customary three years
dissipation at college--and the (nothing to be done without) four
years perambulation on the Continent--without all these needful
appendages--with little more than plain sense--sheer good-nature--and a
right honest heart--thou canst--

    “Like low-born Allen, with an aukward shame,
    “Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame!”

Now, by my grandame’s beard--I will not thank you for your
present--although my ears have been stunned with your goodness and
kindness--the best young man!--and, good Lord! how shall we make him
amends? &c. &c.--Pshaw! simpleton, quoth I, do you not plainly ken,
that he himself has a satisfaction in giving pleasure to his friends,
which more than repays him?--so I strove to turn off the notion of
obligation--though, I must confess, my heart at the same time felt
a something--sure it was not envy--no, I detest it--I fear it was
pride--for I feel within myself this moment, that I could turn the
tables in repaying principal with treble interest--I should feel
gratified--though perhaps not satisfied.--I have a long account to
balance with you--about your comments upon the transcript:--you are
a pretty fellow, to dare put in your claim--to better sense--deeper
thinking--and stronger reasoning than my wise self.--To tell you the
truth (though at my own expence) I read your letter the first time with
some little chagrin;--your reasoning, though it hurt my pride--yet
almost convinced my understanding.--I read it carefully a second
time--pondered--weighed--and submitted--Whenever a spark of vanity
seems to be glowing at my heart--I will read your letter--and what
then?--Why then, humbled by a proper sense of my inferiority, I shall
still have cause for pride--triumph--and comfort--when I reflect that
my valued Censor--is the true friend of his sincerely affectionate

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XL.

TO MR. M----.


  Dec. 4, 1776.

I FORGOT to tell you this morning--a jack-ass would have shewn more
thought--(are they rationals or not?)--the best recipe for the gout,
I am informed--is two or three stale Morning-Posts;--reclined in
easy chair--the patient must sit--and mull over them--take snuff at
intervals--hem--and look wise;--I apply to you as my pharmacopolist--do
not criticize my orthography--but, when convenient, send me the
medicine--which, with care and thanks, I will return.

  Yours,

  Dismal +SANCHO+.


Pray how do you do?



LETTER XLI.

TO MR. M----[4].


  January 4, 1777.

I HAVE read, but have found nothing of the striking kind of sentimental
novelty--which I expected from its great author--the language is good
in most places--but never rises above the common pitch.--In many of our
inferior tragedies--I have ever found here and there a flower strewn,
which has been the grace and pride of the poetic parterre, and has made
me involuntarily cry out, Bravo!--From dress--scenery--action--and
the rest of play-house garniture--it may shew well and go down--like
insipid fish with good sauce;--the Prologue is well--the Epilogue
worth the whole--such is my criticism--read--stare--and conclude your
friend mad--though a more Christian supposition would be--what’s true
at the same time--that my ideas are frozen, much more frigid than the
play;--but allowing that--and although I confess myself exceeding cold,
yet I have warmth enough to declare myself yours sincerely,

  I. SANCHO.


  Love and many happy new years to the ladies.

[4] On reading the Tragedy of Semiramis, _from the French of Mons.
    Voltaire_.



LETTER XLII.

TO MR. M----.


  February 9, 1777.

ZOUNDS! if alive--what ails you? if dead--why did you not send me
word?--Where’s my Tristram?--What, are all bucks alike!--all promise,
and no--but I won’t put myself in a passion--I have but one foot,
and no head--go-to--why, what a devil of a rate dost thou ride at
anathematizing and reprobating poor ----! pho! thou simpleton--he
deserves thy pity--and whoever harbours a grain of contempt for his
fellow-creatures--either in the school of poverty or misfortune--that
Being is below contempt--and lives the scorn of men--and shame of
devils.--Thou shalt not think evil of ----; nor shall he, either by
word or thought, dispraisingly speak or think of M----.

In regard to thy N----, thou art right--guard her well--but chiefly
guard her from the traitor in her own fair breast, which, while it
is the seat of purity and unsullied honor--fancies its neighbours to
be the same--nor sees the serpent in the flowery foliage--till it
stings--and then farewell sweet peace and its attendant riches.

I have only time to thank you for the leaves, and to lament your want
of perspicuity in writing.--My love to George when you see him--and two
loves to Nancy--tell her I could fold her to my bosom with the same
tender pressure I do my girls--shut my eyes--draw her to my heart--and
call her Daughter!--and thou, monkey-face, write me a decent letter--or
you shall have another trimming from yours,

  I. SANCHO.


Look’ye Sir, I write to the ringing of the shop-door bell--I
write--betwixt serving--gossiping--and lying. Alas! what cramps to poor
genius!



For THE GENERAL ADVERTISER.

  The outline of a plan for establishing a most respectable body of
    Seamen to the number 20,000, to be ever ready for the manning a
    fleet upon twelve days notice.


THE proposer is humbly of opinion, that his plan is capable of many
wholesome improvements, which he thinks would prove no unprofitable
study, even to the Lords of the Admiralty.

Ist, Let the number of seamen, now upon actual service, be each man
inrolled upon his Majesty’s books, at the rate of 5_l._ _per annum_ for
life; let them also receive the same quarterly, or half-yearly, upon
personal application.

IIdly, Let books be opened for them in all his Majesty’s different
yards and sea ports, and there their dwelling, age, time they have
served, &c. to be fairly entered; each man to bring a certificate from
his ship, signed by the captain, or some one he shall please to depute.

IIIdly, As an encouragement to his Majesty’s service and population at
the same time, let there be instituted in each of the ship-yards, or
ports, &c. of these Kingdoms, a kind of asylum, or house of refuge,
for the sons of these honest tars, to be received therein at the age
of six years; there to be taught navigation, or, after the common
school learning, to be bound to such parts of ship-building as they by
nature are most inclined to; such as chuse sea service, to be disposed
on board his Majesty’s ships at fifteen years old, and to be enrolled
upon the pension-books after ten years faithful service, unless better
provided for.

Might not there be some plan hit on to employ the daughters, as well
as sons of poor sailors? Does not our Fisheries (if they should ever
happen to be attended to) open many doors of useful employment for both
sexes?

To defray the above, I would advise the following methods:

First, The pension of 5_l._ _per_ man for 20,000, amounts only to
100,000_l._: let this be taken from the Irish list; it will surely be
better employed, than in the present mode for Pensioners of noble blood.

Secondly, Let the book and office keepers at the different yards,
ports, &c. be collected from under-officers who have served with
reputation; it will be a decent retreat for them in the evening of
life, and only a grateful reward for past service.

May some able hand, guided by a benevolent heart, point out and
strongly recommend something of this sort, that the honoured name of
England may be rescued from the scandalous censure of man-stealing, and
from the ingratitude also of letting their preservers perish in the
time of peace!

  I am, Sir, yours, &c.

  +Africanus.+



LETTER XLIII.

TO MR. M----.


  July 27, 1777.

GO-TO!--the man who visits church twice in one day, must either
be religious--curious--or idle--whichever you please, my dear
friend;--turn it the way which best likes you, I will cheerily
subscribe to it.--By the way, H----n was inspired this morning; his
text was from Romans--chapter the--verse the--both forgot;--but the
subject was to present heart, mind, soul, and all the affections--a
living sacrifice to God;--he was most gloriously animated, and seemed
to have imbibed the very spirit and manners of the Great Apostle. Our
afternoon Orator was a stranger to me--he was blest with a good, clear,
and well-toned articulate voice:--he preached from the Psalms--and took
great pains to prove that God knew more than we--that letters were
the fountain of our knowledge--that a man in Westminster was totally
ignorant of what was going forward in Whitechapel--that we might have
some memory of what we did last week--but have no sort of conjecture of
what we shall do to-morrow, &c. &c.--Now H----n’s whole drift was, that
we should live the life of angels here--in order to be so in reality
hereafter:--the other good soul gave us wholesome matter of fact;--they
were both right--(but I fear not to speak my mind to my M----, who,
if he condemns my head, will, I am sure, acquit my heart.)--You have
read and admired Sterne’s Sermons--which chiefly inculcate practical
duties, and paint brotherly love--and the true Christian charities--in
such beauteous glowing colours--that one cannot help wishing to feed
the hungry--cloathe the naked, &c. &c.--I would to God, my friend,
that the great lights of the church would exercise their oratorical
powers upon Yorick’s plan:--the heart and passions once listed under
the banners of blest philanthropy--would naturally ascend to the
redeeming God--flaming with grateful rapture.--Now I have observed
among the modern Saints--who profess to pray without ceasing--that they
are so fully taken up with pious meditations--and so wholy absorbed
in the love of God--that they have little if any room for the love of
man:--if I am wrong, tell me so honestly--the censure of a friend is
of more value than his money--and to submit to conviction, is a proof
of good sense.--I made my bow to-night to Mrs. H----; the rest of the
rogues were out--bright-eyed S---- and all.--Mrs. H---- says that you
are hypped--nonsense!--few can rise superior to pain--and the head,
I will allow, is a part the most _sensible_, if affected;--but even
then you are not obliged to use more motion than you like--though I
can partly feel the aukward sensations and uneasy reflections, which
will often arise upon the least ail of so precious a member as the
eye--yet certain I am, the more you can be master of yourself (I mean
as to chearfulness, if not gaiety of mind) the better it will of course
be with you.--I hope G---- is well--and that you ride often to see
him I make no doubt.--I like the monkey--I know not for why, nor does
it signify a button--but sure he is good-tempered and grateful;--but
what’s that to me?--Good-night:---- the clock talks of eleven.

  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XLIV.

TO MR. M----.


  July 23, 1777.

YES--too true it is--for the many (aye, and some of those many carry
their heads high) too true for the miserable--the needy--the sick--for
many, alas! who now may have no helper--for the child of folly poor
S----, and even for thy worthless friend Sancho.--It is too true, that
the Almighty has called to her rich reward--she who, whilst on earth,
approved herself his best delegate.--How blind, how silly, is the
mortal who places any trust or hope in aught but the Almighty!--You
are just, beautifully just, in your sketch of the vicissitudes of
worldly bliss.--We rise the lover--dine the husband--and too oft,
alas! lay down the forlorne widower.--Never so struck in my life;--it
was on Friday night, between ten and eleven, just preparing for my
concluding pipe--the Duke of M----’s man knocks.--“Have you heard the
bad news?”--No.--“The Dutchess of Queensbury died last night!”--I felt
fifty different sensations--unbelief was uppermost--when he crushed my
incredibility, by saying he had been to know how his Grace did--who was
also very poorly in health.--Now the preceding day, Thursday (the day
on which she expired) I had received a very penitential letter from
S----, dated from St. Helena;--this letter I inclosed in a long tedious
epistle of my own--and sent to Petersham, believing the family to be
all there.--The day after you left town her Grace died;--that day week
she was at my door--the day after I had the honour of a long audience
in her dressing-room.--Alas! this hour blessed with health--crowned
with honors--loaded with riches, and encircled with friends--the
next reduced to a lump of poor clay--a tenement for worms!--Earth
re-possesses part of what she gave--and the freed spirit mounts on
wings of fire:--her disorder was a stoppage--she fell ill the evening
of the Friday that I last saw her--continued in her full senses to
the last.--The good she had done reached the skies long before her
lamented death--and are the only heralds that are worth the pursuit
of wisdom:--as to her bad deeds, I have never heard of them.--Had it
been for the best, God would have lent her a little longer to a foolish
world, which hardly deserved so good a woman;--for my own part, I have
lost a friend--and perhaps ’tis better so.--“Whatever is,” &c. &c.--I
wish S---- knew this heavy news, for many reasons.--I am inclined to
believe her Grace’s death is the only thing that will most conduce
to his reform.--I fear neither his gratitude nor sensibility will be
much hurt upon hearing the news--it will act upon his fears, and
make him do _right_ upon a _base_ principle.--Hang him! he teazes me
whenever I think of him.--I supped last night with St----; he called
in just now, and says he has a right to be remembered to you.--You
and he are two old monkeys--the more I abuse and rate you, the better
friend you think me.--As you have found out that your spirits govern
your head--you will of course contrive every method of keeping your
instrument in tune;--sure I am that bathing--riding--walking--in
succession--the two latter not violent--will brace your nerves--purify
your blood--invigorate its circulation:--add to the rest
_continency_--yes, again I repeat it, _continency_;--before you
reply, think--re-think--and think again--look into your _Bible_--look
in _Young_--peep into your own breast--if your heart warrants what
your head counsels--act then boldly.--Oh! _apropos_--pray thank my
noble friend Mrs. H---- for her friendly present of C-- J--; it
did Mrs. Sancho service, and does poor Billy great good--who has
(through his teeth) been plagued with a cough--which I hope will not
turn to the whooping sort;--the girls greet you as their respected
school-master.--As to your spirited kind offer of a F----, why when you
please--you know what I intend doing with it.

Poor Lady S----, I find, still lingers this side the world.--Alas!
when will the happy period arrive, that the sons of mortality may
greet each other with the joyful news, that sin, pain, sorrow,
and death, are no more; skies without clouds, earth without
crimes, life without death, world without end!--peace, bliss, and
harmony, where the Lord God--All in all--King of kings--Lord of
lords--reigneth--omnipotent--for ever--for ever!--may you, dear M----,
and all I love--yea the whole race of Adam, join with my unworthy weak
self, in the stupendous--astonishing--soul-cheering Hallelujahs!--where
Charity may be swallowed up in Love--Hope in Bliss--and Faith in
glorious Certainty!--We will mix, my boy, with all countries, colours,
faiths--see the countless multitudes of the first world--the myriads
descended from the--Ark--the Patriarchs--Sages--Prophets--and Heroes!
My head turns round at the vast idea! we will mingle with them, and
try to untwist the vast chain of blessed Providence--which puzzles and
baffles human understanding. Adieu.

  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XLV.

TO MR. M----.


  August 8, 1777.

    “Know your own self, presume not God to scan;
    “The only science of mankind, is man.”

THERE is something so amazingly grand--so stupendously affecting--in
the contemplating the works of the Divine Architect, either in the
moral or the intellectual world, that I think one may rightly call
it the cordial of the soul--it is the physic of the mind--and the
best antidote against weak pride--and the supercilious murmurings
of discontent.--Smoaking my morning pipe, the friendly warmth of
that glorious planet the sun--the leniency of the air--the chearful
glow of the atmosphere--made me involuntarily cry, “Lord, what is
man, that thou in thy mercy art so mindful of him! or what the son
of man, that thou so parentally carest for him!” David, whose heart
and affections were naturally of the first kind (and who indeed had
experienced blessings without number), pours forth the grateful
sentiments of his enraptured soul in the sweetest modulations of
pathetic oratory;--the tender mercies of the Almighty are not less to
many of his creatures--but their hearts, unlike the royal disposition
of the Shepherd King, are cold, and untouched with the sweet ray
of gratitude.--Let us, without meanly sheltering our infirmities
under the example of others--perhaps worse taught--or possessed
of less leisure for self-examination--let us, my dear M----, look
into ourselves--and, by a critical examination of the past events
of our lives, fairly confess what mercies we have received--what
God in his goodness hath done for us--and how our gratitude and
praise have kept pace in imitation of the son of Jesse.--such a
research would richly pay us--for the end would be conviction--so
much on the side of miraculous mercy--such an unanswerable proof
of the superintendency of Divine Providence, as would effectually
cure us of rash despondency--and melt our hearts--with devotional
aspirations--till we poured forth the effusions of our souls in
praise and thanksgiving.--When I sometimes endeavour to turn my
thoughts inwards, to review the power or properties the indulgent
all-wise Father has endow’d me with, I am struck with wonder and with
awe--worm, poor insignificant reptile as I am, with regard to superior
beings--mortal like myself.--Amongst, and at the very head of our
riches, I reckon the power of reflection:--Where? where, my friend,
doth it lie?--Search every member from the toe to the nose--all--all
ready for action--but all dead to thought--it lies not in matter--nor
in the blood--it is a party, which though we feel and acknowledge,
quite past the power of definition--it is that breath of life which
the Sacred Architect breathed into the nostrils of the first man--image
of his gracious Maker--and let it animate our torpid gratitude--it
rolls on, although diminished by our cruel fall, through the whole
race.--“We are fearfully and wonderfully made,” &c. &c. were the
sentiments of the Royal Preacher upon a self-review--but had he been
blessed with the full blaze of the Christian dispensation--what would
have been his raptures?--The promise of never, never-ending existence
and felicity, to possess eternity--“glorious, dreadful thought!” to
rise, perhaps, by regular progression, from planet to planet--to behold
the wonders of immensity--to pass from good to better--increasing
in goodness--knowledge--love--to glory in our Redeemer--to joy in
ourselves--to be acquainted with prophets, sages, heroes, and poets
of old times--and join in symphony with angels!--And now, my friend,
thou smilest at my futile notions--why preach to thee?--For this very
good and simple reason, to get your thoughts in return.--You shall
be my philosopher--my Mentor--my friend;--you, happily disengaged
from various cares of life and family, can review the little world of
man with steadier eye, and more composed thought, than your friend,
declining fast into the vale of years, and beset with infirmity
and pain.--Write now and then, as thought prompts, and inclination
leads--refute my errors--where I am just, give me your plaudit.--Your
welfare is truly dear in my sight;--and if any man has a share in my
heart, or commands my respect and esteem, it is I---- M----.

  Witness my mark,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XLVI.

TO MR. M----.


  August 14, 1777.

MY dear M----, I know full well thy silence must proceed from ill
health. To say it concerns me, is dull nonsense--self-love without
principle will inspire even Devils with affection;--by so much less
as thou apprehendest thy friend has diabolical about him--so may’st
thou judge of his feelings towards thee.--Why wilt thou not part
with thy hair? most assuredly I do believe it would relieve thee
past measure--thou dost not fancy thy strength (like Sampson’s the
Israelite) lieth in thy hair. Remember he was shorn thro’ folly--he
lost his wits previous to his losing his locks--do thou consent to
lose thine, in order to save thy better judgement,--I know no worse
soul sinking pain than the head-ach, though (thank heaven) I am not
often visited with it.--I long to see thee--and will soon, if in
my power:--some odd folks would think it would have _been_ but good
manners to have thanked you for the fawn--but then, says the punster,
that would have _been_ so like _fawn_-ing--which J. M---- loves not,
_no_, nor Sancho either;--’tis the hypocrite’s key to the great man’s
heart--’tis the resource of cowardly curs--and deceitful b--p--s--it is
the spaniel’s sort--and man’s disgrace--it is--in short, the day is so
hot--that I cannot say at present any more about it--but that the fawn
was large, fresh, and worthy the giver, the receiver, and the joyous
souls that eat it.--Billy has suffered much in getting his teeth--I
have just wished him joy by his mother’s desire, who says that he took
resolution at last, and walked to her some few steps quite alone.
Albeit it gave me no small pleasure--yet, upon consideration, what I
approve of now, perhaps, (should I live to see him at man’s estate) I
might then disapprove--unless God’s grace should as ably support him
through the quick-sands--rocks--and shoals of life--as it has happily
the honest being I am now writing to.--God give you health!--your own
conduct will secure peace--your friends bread.--As to honors, leave it
with titles--to knaves--and be content with that of an honest man,

  “the noblest work of God.”

Shave--shave--shave.

  Farewell, yours sincerely,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XLVII.

TO MISS C----.


  August 15, 1777.

I WAITED, in hopes that time or chance might furnish me with
something to fill a sheet, with better than the praises of an old
man.--What has youth and beauty to do with the squabbling contentions
of mad ambition?--Could I new-model Nature--your sex should rule
supreme:--there should be no other ambition but that of pleasing the
ladies--no other welfare but the contention of obsequious lovers--nor
any glory but the bliss of being approved by the Fair.--Now, confess
that this epistle opens very gallant, and allow this to be a decent
return to one of the best and most sensible letters that L---- Wells
has produced this century past.--I much wish for the pleasing hopes
raised by your obliging letter--that my good friend’s health is
restored so fully, that she has by this time forgot what the pains
in the stomach mean,--that she has sent all her complaints to the
lake of Lethe--and is thinking soon to enliven our part our world,
enriched with health--spirits--and a certain bewitching benignity of
countenance--which cries out--‘Dislike me if you can!’--I want to
know what conquests you have made--what savages converted--whom you
have smiled into felicity, or killed by rejection;--and how the noble
Master of Ceremonies acquits himself, John S---- Esq; I mean.--I hear
my friend R---- will be in town this week, to my great comfort;--for,
upon my conscience, excepting my family, the town to me is quite
empty.--Mrs. R---- is gone to Bury--and the good man is toiling a
lonely and forlorne object.--Mrs. Sancho joins in every good and
grateful wish for your amiable friend, with, dear Miss C----, your
obliged friend and humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XLVIII.

TO MR. M----.


  August 25, 1777.

  +Jack-asses.+

MY gall has been plentifully stirred--by the barbarity of a set of
gentry, who _every morning_ offend my feelings--in their cruel parade
through Charles Street, to and from market:--they vend potatoes
in the day--and thieve in the night season.--A tall lazy villian
was bestriding his poor beast (although loaded with two panniers
of potatoes at the same time), and another of his companions was
good-naturedly employed in whipping the poor sinking animal--that the
gentleman-rider might enjoy the two-fold pleasure of blasphemy and
cruelty:--this is a too common evil--and, for the honor of rationality,
calls loudly for redress.--I do believe it might be in some measure
amended--either by a hint in the papers, of the utility of impressing
such vagrants for the king’s service--or by laying a heavy tax upon
the poor Jack-asses.--I prefer the former, both for thy sake and
mine:--and, as I am convinced we feel instinctively the injuries of our
_fellow creatures_; I do insist upon your exercising your talents in
behalf of the honest sufferers.--I ever had a kind of sympathetic (call
it what you please) for that animal--_and do I not love you?_--Before
Sterne had wrote them into respect, I had a friendship for them--and
many a civil greeting have I given them at casual meetings:--what has
ever (with me) stamped a kind of uncommon value and dignity upon the
long-ear’d kind of the species, is that our Blessed Saviour, in his
day of worldly triumph, chose to use that in preference to the rest
of his own blessed creation--“meek and lowly, riding upon an ass.” I
am convinced that the general inhumanity of mankind proceeds--first,
from the cursed false principle of common education;--and, secondly,
from a total indifference (if not disbelief) of the Christian
faith;--a heart and mind impressed with a firm belief of the Christian
tenets, must of course exercise itself in a constant uniform general
philanthropy:--such a being carries his heaven in his breast!--and such
be thou! therefore write me a bitter Philippick against the misusers of
Jack-asses;--it shall honor a column in the Morning Post--and I will
bray--bray my thanks to you:--thou shalt figure away the champion of
poor friendless asses here--and hereafter shalt not be ashamed in the
great day of retribution.

Mrs. Sancho would send you some tamarinds.--I know not her reasons;--as
I hate contentions, I contradicted not--but shrewdly suspect she
thinks you want cooling.--Do you hear, Sir? send me some more good
news about your head.--Your letters will not be the less welcome for
talking about J---- M----; but pray do not let vanity so master
your judgement--to fancy yourself upon a footing with George for
well looking:--if you were indeed a proof-sheet--you was marred in
the taking-off--for George (ask the girls) is certainly the fairest
impression.

I had an order from Mr. H---- on Thursday night to see him do
Falstaff;--I put some money to it, and took Mary and Betsy with me:--it
was Betty’s first affair--and she enjoyed it in truth--H----’s Falstaff
is entirely original--and I think as great as his Shylock;--he kept the
house in a continual roar of laughter:--in some things he falls short
of Quin--in many I think him equal.--When I saw Quin play, he was at
the height of his art, with thirty years judgement to guide him. H----,
in seven years more, will be all that better--and confessedly the first
man on the English stage, or I am much mistaken.

I am reading a little pamphlet, which I much like: it favours an
opinion which I have long indulged--which is the improbability
of eternal Damnation--a thought which almost petrifies one--and,
in my opinion, derogatory to the fullness, glory, and benefit
of the blessed expiation of the Son of the Most High God--who
died for the sins of all--all--Jew, Turk, Infidel, and
Heretic;--fair--sallow--brown--tawney--black--and you--and I--and every
son and daughter of Adam.--You must find eyes to read this book--head
and heart--with a quickness of conception thou enjoyest--with
many--many advantages--which have the love--and envy almost of yours,

  I. SANCHO.


Respects in folio to Mrs. H----.



LETTER XLIX.

TO MR. R----.


  August 27, 1777.

  DEAR FRIEND,

WHETHER this finds your officially parading on Newmarket turfs--or
in the happier society of the good geniuses of B---- house--may it
find you well--in good joyous spirits--gay, debonnair--happy at
heart--happy as I have seen my meaning expressed in the countenance
of my friend Mrs. C----, where humanity--humility--and goodwill--have
outshone beauty--in one of the finest faces of your country--but this
between ourselves;--and pray how does the aforesaid lady do?--does she
ride, walk, and dance, with moderation?--and can you tell me that she
continues as well as when she first went down--and still finds good
from her western expedition?--And the little Syren Miss C----?--Have
there no letters, sent by Cupid’s post, sticking on the arrow’s point,
been picked up about your grounds, blown by western breezes across the
country?--Tell her nothing can ever hurt her but Love and Time.--May
Love bring her happiness, and Time honour!--As to wealth--may she
have no more than she can manage with comfort and credit!--Monsieur
L----’s letter is a good one--and I think it would make one laugh
even in the gout.--God bless this old boy--for he is a true type of
beggarly pride--cunning--narrow-hearted--vain and mean--one of Satan’s
dupes--who do his dirty work for a little worldly trash--and cheat
themselves at last.--I know a man who delights to make every one he
can happy--that same man treated some honest girls with expences for
a Vauxhall evening.--If you should happen to know him--you may tell
him from me--that last night--three great girls--a boy--and a fat old
fellow--were as happy and pleas’d as a fine evening--fine place--good
songs--much company--and good music--could make them.--Heaven and
Earth!--how happy, how delighted, were the girls!--Oh! the pleasures
of novelty to youth!--We went by water--had a coach home--were gazed
at--followed, &c. &c.--but not much abused.--I must break off before I
have half finished--for Mr. ---- is just come in--you are not the first
good friend that has been neglected for a fop.

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER L.

TO MR. M----.


  September 3, 1777.

I FEEL it long since I heard from you--very long since I saw you--and
three or four days back had some notion, I should never, in this paltry
world, see thee again--but (thanks to the Father of Mercies!) I am
better, and have a higher relish of health and ease, from contrasting
the blessings with the pains I have endured.--Would to God you could
say that your dizzy dismal headachs were flown to the moon, or
embarked for Lapland--there to be tied up in a witch’s bag--and sold to
Beelzebub with a cargo of bad winds--religious quarrels--politics--my
gout--and our American grievances!--But what are you about in your last
(where you dropt the candid friend and assumed the flatterer)?--You
hinted as if there was a chance of seeing you in Charles Street: I wish
it much.--My friend, I have had a week’s gout in my hand, which was
by much too hard for my philosophy.--I am convinced, let the Stoics
say what they list--that pain is an evil;--in short, I was wishing for
death--and little removed from madness--but (thank Heaven)! I am much
better--my spirits will be mended if I hear from you--better still to
see you.--I find it painful to write much, and learn that two hands
are as necessary in writing as eating.--You see I write, like a lady,
from one corner of the paper to the other.--My respects--and love--and
admiration--and compliments--to Mrs. ----, and Mrs. and Miss ----. Tell
M----l, he kept his word in calling to see us before he left town!--I
hope--confound the ink!--what a blot! Now don’t you dare suppose I was
in fault--no, Sir, the pen was disabled--the paper worse--there was a
concatenation of ill-sorted chances--all--all--coincided to contribute
to that fatal blot--which has so disarranged my ideas--that I must
perforce finish before I had half disburthened my head and heart:--but
is N---- a good girl?--and how does my honest George do? Tell Mrs.
H---- what you please in the handsome way of me.--Farewell, I will
write no more nonsense this night--that’s flat.

  IGN. SANCHO.


How do you like the print:--Mr. D---- says, and his wife says the
same--that you are exceedingly clever--and they shall be happy
to do any thing which is produced by the same hand which did the
original--and if Mr. D---- can be of any service to you in the
etching--you may command him when you please.



LETTER LI.

TO MR. M----.


  September 16, 1777.

SIR, he is the confounded’st dunderhead--sapscull--looby--clodpate,
nincompoop--ninnyhammer--booby-chick--farcical--loungibuss--
blunderbuss--this good day in the three kingdoms!--You would
bless yourself, were it possible for you to analyze such a being--not
but his heart is susceptible of a kind of friendly warmth--but then
so cursed careless--ever in a hurry--ever in the wrong, at best but
blundering about the right.--Why now, for example, when you sent
the ----, I can make oath, if need be--that the dunce I speak of
longed more for a letter than the animal. The basket was searched
with hurry--not care;--no letter? well, it can’t be help’d--his head
ach’d--he had not time, &c. &c.--the P---- was disengaged from the
basket--the straw consigned to the chimney:--this being rather a
coolish morning, a little fire was thought necessary--and in raking
up the loose dirty waste stuff under the grate, there appeared a
very bloody letter, which seemed unopened:--your hand-writing was
discernible through the dirt and blood;--curiosity and affection ran
a race to pick up and examine it--when, behold, it proved to be the
companion of the P----, but so effaced with blood--that very--very
little of my friend’s good sense could be made out.--Your poor letter
is a type of what daily happens--merit oppressed and smothered by
rubbish.--Alas, poor letter! it shared the fate the poor world, which
we inhabit, will hereafter undergo:--one bright gleam of imitation
of the mind that dictated it--some few sparks.--Alas! alas! my poor
letter--pass but a few years--perhaps a few months--thy generous
friendly compost may--thy friend whose heart glows while he writes--who
feels thy worth--yea, and reveres it too.--Nonsense, why we know the
very hinges of our last cradles will rust and moulder;--and that,
in the course of another century, neither flesh, bone, coffin, nor
nail--will be dicernible from mother earth.--Courage--while we live,
let us live--to Virtue--Friendship--Religion--Charity--then drop (at
death’s call) our cumbrous (you are thin) load of flesh, and mount
in spirit to our native home.--Bless us, at what a rate have I been
travelling!--I am quite out of breath--Why! my friend, the business
was to thank you for the pig.--Had you seen the group of heads--aye,
and wise ones too--that assembled at the opening of the fardel--the
exclamations--Oh! the finest--fattest--cleanest--why, Sir, it was a
pig of pigs;--the pettitoes gave us a good supper last night--they
were well dressed--and your pig was well eat--it dined us Sunday and
Monday.--Now, to say truth, I do not love pig--merely pig--I like
not--but pork corned--alias--salted--either roast or boiled--I will eat
against any filthy Jew naturalized--or under the bann.--On Saturday
night the newsman brought me two papers of J---- 13th and 20th;--right
joyful did I receive them:--I ran to Mrs. Sancho--with, I beg you
will read my friend’s sensible and spirited defence of--of, &c.--She
read--though it broke in upon her work--she approved;--but chance or
fortune--or ill-luck--or what you ever mean by accident--has
played us a confounded trick;--for since Saturday they have--both
papers--disappeared--without hands--or legs--or eyes--for no one has seen
them;--bureau--boxes--cupboards--drawers--parlour--chamber--shop--all--all
has been rummaged--pockets--port-folio--holes--corners--all been
searched;--Did you see them?--did you?--where can they be?--I know
not--nor I--nor I--but God does!--Omnipotence knoweth all things.--It
has vexed me--fretted dame Sancho--teazed the children--but so it
is;--hereafter I suppose they will be found in some obvious (though now
unthought of) place, and then it will be, Good Lord, who could have
thought it!

Where is the _Jack-ass_ business?--do not be lazy--I feel myself a
party concerned--and when I see you, I have a delicious morsel of true
feminine grace and generosity to shew you.--I shall not apologize for
this crude epistle;--but mark and remark--I do thank you in the name
of every Sancho but self--they eat, and were filled;--I have reason to
thank you;--but as I do not affect pig--in a piggish sense--I hold
myself excepted;--and, although I did eat--and did also commend, yet I
will not thank you, that’s poss.

  I. SANCHO.


The papers are found, as you will see:--here is one and a piece; it has
suffered through ignorance;--but what cannot be cured, must be endured.



LETTER LII.

TO MR. R.----.


  September 17, 1777.

  MY RESPECTED FRIEND,

I FEEL myself guilty of an unmannerly neglect, in delaying to give my
good Mrs. C---- some account of the little commissions she honoured
me with.--You must exert your friendly influence, in making my peace
with her;--not but that I well know mercy has the blest preponderancy
in her scale--nor can kindness or mercy be lodged in a fairer
breast;--in faith, I am scarce half alive;--yet what really is alive
about me--hungers to hear news from B----: first, how Mrs. C---- got
down--and her good companion;--how her health is: tell her, I hope
she left all her pains behind her;--if so, I believe I have taken
possession of them all. Alas, my friend, I never was but half so bad
before;--both feet knocked up at once; plenty of excruciating pains,
and a great lack of patience.--Mrs. Sancho has had a blessed week of
it;--for my companion did not contribute much to the sweetening my
temper--it was the washing-week, which you know made it a full chance
and half better.--she was forced to break sugar, and attend shop.--God
bless her, and reward her!--she is good--good in heart--good in
principle--good by habit--good by Heaven! God forgive me, I had almost
sworn.--Tell me how the ladies got down--how they do; and what they
do;--how you do;--and how ---- feels, now the broom is hung on his door
top.--The certainty that B---- and his connexions are all alive and
merry--will be a cure for my gout--and thou shalt be sole doctor, as
well as first friend, to thy ever obliged true friend.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LIII.

TO MR. M----.


  September 20, 1777.

    “What Reason warrants, and what Wisdom guides,
    “All else is tow’ring frenzy, or rank folly.”

SO says Addison--

--And so well knoweth my friend I. M----. Well, and what then? why
it follows of course--that, instead of feeling myself delighted and
gratefully thankful, for--I will and must speak out--yet if these
kindnesses cost the pocket of my friend--they are not kindnesses
to the Sanchos.--For innate goodness of heart--greatness of
spirit--urbanity--humanity--temperance--justice--with the whole sweet
list of heaven-born manly virtues--I do, without flattery, give thee
(and with pride do I avouch it) credit--I respect thy person, and
love thy principles;--but, my good M----, there is a prior duty--which
I dare believe you will never willingly be deficient in--and yet
your generosity of soul may let even such a worm as I break into
it;--now, that should not be--for--take me right--I do not mean any
thing derogatory to your rank in the world--or to the strength of your
finances--what Sterne said of himself that think I of you--that you
are as good a gentleman as the King--but not quite so rich.--I honor
thy feelings--and am happy that I can honestly say, that I conceive
them;--the joy of giving and making happy is almost the attribute of a
God--and there is as much sweetness conveyed to the senses by doing a
right well-natured deed, as our frame can consistently bear--_So much
for chastisement--a pretty way of thanking!_--Well, I have critically
examined thy song--some parts I like well--as it is a maidenhead, it
should be gently treated--But why N---- Oh! Nature! A true passion
is jealous even of the initials of its mistress’s name.--Well, N----
let it be--I will certainly attempt giving it a tune--such as I
can--the first leisure--but it must undergo some little pruning
when we meet.--I have had another little visit from the gout--and
my hand yet remembers the rough salute; my spirits have been rather
low.--Young’s ninth night, the Consolation, has been my last week’s
study. It is almost divine;--how many times has it raised, warmed, and
charmed me!--and is still new. I hope you found your mother and honest
George as well as you wished--and had the full enjoyment of maternal
and filial affections.--The girls are rampant-well--and Billy gains
something every day.--The rogue is to excess fond of me--for which I
pity him--and myself more.--My respects and kind enquiry to your old
horse.--Tell him, I wish him better--and am a real friend to honest
brutes--some I could almost envy.--To say I am rejoiced to hear you
are better, is telling you no news--be but as well as I wish you--as
rich--and as good--Sampson, Solomon, and the Duke de Penthievre, will
never be comparisons more.--Adieu.

  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.


I am as melancholy--as a tea-kettle when it sings (as the maidens calls
it) over a dead fire.

Oh!--but is it N---- indeed?--now don’t you be after humming me;
believe me, honey--if I never find out the truth, I shall know it for
all that.



LETTER LIV.

TO MR. S----.


  October 24, 1777.

I DENY it. That I ought to have acknowledged your favour two weeks ago
I confess--but my silence was not so long--nor broad--nor rusty--nor
fusty as yours.--Blithe health--festive hours--and social mirth--be
thine, my friend! Thy letter, though late, was truly welcome--it
unbended the brow of care--and suspended, for some hours, disagreeable
thoughts.----By St. Radagunda! quoth I--(ramming my nostrils with
Hardham) he has catched the mantle.--Alas, poor Yorick! oh! that thou
hadst, by divine permission, been suffered a little--little longer,
amongst the moonstruck children of this namby-pamby world! Father of
light and life! thy will be done;--but surely--half the wit--half the
good sense--of this present age--were interred in Sterne’s grave. His
broad philanthropy--like the soul-cheering rays of the blessed sun,
invested his happy spirit, and soared into Heaven with it--where, in
progressive rise from bliss to bliss, he drinks in large draughts of
rapture, love, and knowledge, and chants the praises of redeeming love,
with joy unbounded, and unceasing vigour.--Your invocation has mounted
me, Merry-Andrew like, upon stilts.--I ape you as monkeys ape men, by
walking upon two.--That you have recovered the true tone of your health
and spirits, I rejoice--to be happy in despight of fortune, shews the
Philosopher--the Hero--the Christian. I must confess, my fortitude
(which is wove of very flimsy materials) too oft gives way in the
rough and unfriendly jostles of life:--Madam Fortune, who by the way
is a bunter (and such I love not), has been particularly cross and
untoward to me since you left us. They say she is fond of fools--’tis
false and scandalous--she hates me--and I have the vanity to say and
believe--that if folly, sheer folly, had any charms--I should stand
as fair in her esteem--as A. B. C. D. E. F.--or any of Folly’s family
through the whole alphabet.--You halted at Burleigh--you did just
what I wished you to do--and left it, I trust, as well in health as
you entered that sweet mansion--stopp’d at Retford--and found your
venerable parents well--and contributed to their happiness--increased
their felicity by the many nice little attentions of filial love--which
the good heart delights in--and even angels approve.--And how do the
worthy souls of Hull and its environs?--Do they credit themselves
by esteeming a good-enough kind of mortal?--You cannot imagine what
hold little Billy gets of me--he grows--prattles--and every day
learns something new--and by his good-will would be ever in the
shop with me. The monkey! he clings round my legs--and if I chide
him or look sour--he holds up his little mouth to kiss me;--I know
I am the fool--for parent’s weakness is child’s strength:--truth
orthodox--which will hold good between lover and lovee--as well as
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -. Mrs. Sancho and her virgins are so, so.
Mr. Sancho, the virgins, well as youth and innocence, souls void of
care and consciences of offence, can be.--Dame Sancho would be better
if she cared less.--I am her barometer--if a sigh escapes me, it is
answered by a tear in her eye;--I oft assume a gaiety to illume her
dear sensibility with a smile--which twenty years ago almost bewitched
me;--and _mark_!--after twenty years enjoyment--constitutes my highest
pleasure!--Such be your lot--with a competency--such as will make
œconomy a pleasant acquaintance--temperance and exercise your chief
physician--and the virtues of benevolence your daily employ--your
pleasure and reward! And what more can friendship wish you?--but to
glide down the stream of time--blest with a partner of congenial
principles, and fine feelings--true feminine eloquence--whose very
looks speak tenderness and sentiment.--Your infants growing--with the
roseate bloom of health--minds cultured by their father--expanding
daily in every improvement--blest little souls!--and happy--happy
parents!--such be thy lot in life--in marriage;--but take a virgin--or
a maiden--to thy arms;--but--be that as thy fate wills it.--Now
for news.--Two hours ago (in tolerable health and cheary spirits)
considering his journey not so fatigued as might be expected--followed
by four superb carriages--their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Dutchess
of Gloucester arrived in town. As to America, if you know any thing
at Hull, you know more than is known in London.--Samuel Foote, Esq;
is dead--a leg was buried some years since--and now the whole _foote_
follows.--I think you love a pun.--Colman is the gainer, as he
covenanted to give him 1600_l._ _per annum_, for his patent;--in short,
Colman is happy in the bargain--and I trust Foote is no loser.--I have
seen poor Mr. de Groote but once--and then could not attend to speak
with him, as I had customers in the shop.--I waited by appointment for
Mr. ----, to get your honor’s address--and then three weeks before I
could get the franks--a fortnight since for Mr. ---- writing to you--I
call this a string of beggarly apologies.--I told M---- you expected a
line from him--he wanted faith.--I made him read your letter--and what
then? “truly he was not capable--he had no classical education--you
write with elegance--ease--propriety.”----Tut, quoth I, pr’ythee give
not the reins to pride--write as I do--just the effusions of a warm
though foolish heart:--friendship will cast a veil of kindness over thy
blunders--they will be accepted with a complacent smile--and read with
the same eye of kindness which indulges now the errors of his sincere
friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.


A true Genius will always remember to leave a space unwritten--to come
in contact with the wax or wafer--by which means the reader escapes
half an hour’s puzzle to make out a sentence;--and ever while you
live--never omit--no--not that--what?--what!--dates! dates!--am not I a
grocer?----Pun the Second.



LETTER LV.

TO MRS. C----.


  Charles Street, Nov. 5, 1777.

NOW, whether to address--according to the distant, reserved, cold,
mechanical forms of high-breeding--where polished manners, like a horse
from the manage, prances fantastic--and, shackled with the rules of
art, proudly despises simple nature;--or shall I, like the patient,
honest, sober, long-ear’d animal, take plain Nature’s path, and address
you according to my feelings?--My dear friend--you wanted to know the
reason I had never addressed a line to you;--the plain and honest truth
is, I thought writing _at_--was better than writing _to_ you;--that’s
one reason:--now a second reason is--I know my own weakness too well to
encounter with your little friend--whom I fear as a critic--and envy
as a writer:--another reason is--a case of conscience--which some time
or other you may have explained:--reason the fourth--a secret--and so
must be--till the blessed year 1797;--and then, if you will deign
to converse with an old friend--you shall know all.--Kitty sends her
respects to Nutts--and her duty to her godmother.--Billy looks wisely
by turns--and will speak for himself--if you should ever come to town
again.--The girls all improve in appetite. Mrs. Sancho is tolerably
well--and I am yours very seriously,

  I. SANCHO.


P. S. I wrote to my friend R----, and then made some modest demands
upon your good-nature--There are a sort of people in the world (one or
two in a large extent of country) rare enough to meet with--and you
are one whom nature hath left entirely defenceless to the depredations
of knaves;--for my part, I own I have no remorse when I tax your
good-nature--which proceeds from your having obliged me so much--that I
think with the street paupers--when they cry--“Good your Ladyship, give
me something--you always used to remember your poor old woman!”--Well
but to conclude--we courtiers are all alive upon this great good
news--the Queen, God bless her--safe;--another Princess--Oh the cake
and cawdle!--Then the defeat of Washintub’s army--and the capture of
Arnold and Sulivan with seven thousand prisoners;--thirteen counties
return to their allegiance;--all this news is believed--the delivery of
her Majesty is certain--pray God the rest may be as certain--that this
cursed carnage of the human species may end--commerce revive--sweet
social peace be extended throughout the globe--and the British empire
be strongly knit in the never-ending bands of sacred friendship and
brotherly love!--Her good Grace of P---- is just arrived:--the gardens
would look as they were wont--but for you. But to conclude--the little
dance (which I like because I made it)--I humbly beg you will make
Jacky play--and amongst you contrive a figure.--The Dutchess of ----
visits the Queen this evening--which being a piece of news you may
credit--and of the utmost consequence--I close my very sensible decent
epistle with--And so God bless you!--Pray tell Mr. K---- my thanks for
his obliging letter--and that I join him and all his friends in honest
gladness--upon his brother’s account.--I fear, also, he has had, and
still has, too much practice.--I have this opinion of him, that his
humanity will ever be found equal to his skill--and that he will be a
credit to his profession--as well as a blessing to his patients.--My
humble respects and best wishes attend Miss ---- and Messieurs B----
and S----, &c.

The grand news is not yet officially authenticated--as no express is
yet arrived from the Howes--the Isis man of war, which is supposed
to have the dispatches, not being got in;--but the K---- and Cabinet
believe the news to be true, though brought by hear-say--at sea.



LETTER LVI.

TO MR. S----.


  December 20, 1777.

WITH the old story of the Season, &c. &c. most sincerely, and amen.

When Royal David--in the intoxication of success and fullness of
pride--imprudently insisted upon the numbering of his people--we are
told, the Prophet was sent to announce the Divine displeasure--and to
give him the choice of one of the three of the Almighty’s heaviest
punishments:--in his choice--he shewed both wisdom and true piety--you
know the rest.--Now, my friend--thou knowest my weakness;--I
sincerely believe the Sacred Writ--and of course look upon war in
all its horrid arrangements as the bitterest curse that can fall
upon a people; and this American one--as one of the very worst--of
worst things:--that it is a just judgement, I do believe;--that the
eyes of our rulers are shut, and their judgements stone-blind, I
believe also.--The Gazette will give you a well-drest melancholy
account--but you will see one thing in it which you will like--and
that is, the humane solicitude of General Burgoyne--for the safety
and good treatment indiscriminately of all his camp-artificers and
attendants:--he is certainly a man of feeling--and I regard him
more for the grandeur of his mind in adversity--than I should in
all the triumphal pomp of military madness.--But let me return, if
possible, to my senses:--for God’s sake! what has a poor starving
Negroe, with six children, to do with kings and heroes, and armies and
politics?--Aye, or poets and painters!--or artists--of any sort? quoth
Monsieur S----. True--indubitably true.--For your letter, thanks--It
should have come sooner--better late, &c. &c.--What have I to do with
your good or evil fortune--health or sickness--weal or woe?--I am
resolved from henceforth to banish feelings--Misanthrope from head
to foot!--_Apropos_--not five minutes since I was interrupted, in
this same letter of letters, by a pleasant affair--to a man of no
feelings.--A fellow bolted into the shop with a countenance in which
grief and fear struggled for mastery.--“Did you see any body go to my
cart, Sir?”--“No, friend, how should I? you see I am writing--and how
should I be able to see your cart or you either in the dark?”--“Lord in
heaven pity me! cries the man, what shall I do? oh! what shall I do?--I
am undone!--Good God!--I did but go into the court here--with a trunk
for the lady at Captain G----’s (I had two to deliver), and somebody
has stole the other;--what shall I do?--what shall I do?”--“Zounds,
man!--who ever left their cart in the night with goods in it, without
leaving some one to watch?”--“Alack, Sir, I left a boy, and told him I
would give him something to stand by the cart, and the boy and trunk
are both gone!”--Oh nature!--oh heart!--why does the voice of distress
so forcibly knock at the door of hearts--but to hint to pride and
avarice our common kindred--and to alarm self-love?--Mark, I do think,
and will maintain it--that self-love alone, if rightly understood,
would make man all that a dying Redeemer wills he should be.--But this
same stolen trunk;--the ladies are just gone out of my shop--they have
been here holding a council--upon law and advertisements;--God help
them!--they could not have come to a worse--nor could they have found
a stupider or sorrier adviser:--the trunk was seen parading between
two in the Park--and I dare say the contents by this time are pretty
well gutted.--Last Sunday I met, coming from church, Mr. C----; he
looks well, better than when you left him.--I took occasion, as we were
prating about and about your worship--to pin Mr. de Groote’s interest
upon the skirts of his feelings;--he desired, when I saw him next,
I would send him into Crown-street--which I religiously performed,
but have not seen Mr. de Groote since;--in truth, there is (despight
of his nose) so much of the remains of better times--somewhat of the
gentleman and artist in ruins--something creative of reverence as well
as pity--that I have wished to do more than I ought--though at the
same time too little for such a being to receive without insult from
the hands of a poor Negroe--(pooh, I do not care for your prancings, I
can see you at this distance).--We have agreed upon one thing;--which
is, I have undertaken to write to Mr. G---- for him, in the way of
local relief;--I will wager a tankard of porter I succeed in some
sort;--I will aim at both sides of him--his pity and his pride--which,
alas!--the last I mean, finds a first-floor in the breast of every
son of Adam. S---- called on me this day, and left a picture for you
at your lodgings--and a very spirited head in miniature, of your own
doing, with me--which I like so well--you will find it difficult to get
it from me--except you talk of giving me a copy--Self-love again!--How
can you expect business in these hard times--when the utmost exertions
of honest industry can scarce afford people in the middle sphere of
life daily provisions?--When it shall please the Almighty that things
shall take a better turn in America--when the conviction of their
madness shall make them court peace--and the same conviction of our
cruelty and injustice induce us to settle all points in equity--when
that time arrives, my friend, America will be the grand patron of
genius--trade and arts will flourish--and if it shall please God to
spare us till that period--we will either go and try our fortunes
there--or stay in Old England and talk about it.--While thou hast
only one mouth to feed--one back to cloath--and one wicked member to
indulge--thou wilt have no pity from me--excepting in the argument of
health. May that cordial blessing be thine--with its sweet companion
ease!--Peace follows rectitude--and what a plague would’st thou have
more?--Write soon if thou dar’st--retort at thy peril--boy--girls--and
the old Duchess, all pretty well--and so, so, is yours,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LVII.

TO J. S----, Esq.


  Charles Street, December 26, 1777.

I HAD the favor of a letter--replete with kindness which I can never
deserve--and have just now received the valuable contents--of which
said letter was harbinger--without either surprize or emotion--save a
kind of grateful tickling of the heart--the child of respect--and I
believe twin-brother of gratitude.----Now had I heard of an A--hb--p
(at this sacred season especially)--gladdening the hearts of the
poor, aged and infirm--with good cheer--informing the minds of the
young with Christian precepts, and reforming his whole See by his
pious example--that would have surprized me:--had I been informed of
a truly great man--who, laying aside party and self-interest, dared
to step forth the advocate of truth, and friend to his country; or
had any one told me of a lord--who was wise enough to live within
bounds--and honest enough to pay his debts--why it would have surpriz’d
me indeed.--But I have been well informed there is a Mr. S---- at
Bury--and I think I have seen the gentleman--who lives in a constant
course of doing beneficent actions--and, upon these occasions, the
pleasure he feels constitutes him the obliged party.--You, good
Sir, ought of course to thank me--for adding one more to the number
you are pleased to be kind to--so pray remember, good Sir, that my
thanks--(however due in the eye of gratitude) I conceive to be an act
of supererogation--and expect that henceforth you will look upon the
Sancho’s--as a family that have a rightful call upon your notice.--Mrs.
Sancho joins me in repetition of the customary wishes.--Give me credit
for having a heart which feels your kindness as it ought.--That Heaven
may lengthen your days for the good of mankind--and grant every wish of
your heart--is the true conclusion of

  Your greatly obliged
  and respectful humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LVIII.

TO MR. F----.


  Charles Street, January 27, 1778.

FULL heartily and most cordially do I thank thee, good Mr. F----, for
your kindness in sending the books--that upon the unchristian and most
diabolical usage of my brother Negroes--the illegality--the horrid
wickedness of the traffic--the cruel carnage and depopulation of the
human species--is painted in such strong colours--that I should think
would (if duly attended to) flash conviction, and produce remorse, in
every enlightened and candid reader.--The perusal affected me more
than I can express;--indeed I felt a double or mixt sensation--for
while my heart was torn with the sufferings which--for aught I
know--some of my nearest kin might have undergone--my bosom, at the
same time, glowed with gratitude and praise toward the humane--the
Christian--the friendly and learned Author of that most valuable
book.--Blest be your sect!--and Heaven’s peace be upon them!--I, who,
thank God! am no bigot--but honour virtue and the practice of the
great moral duties equally in the turban or the lawn-sleeves--who
think Heaven big enough for all the race of man--and hope to see
and mix amongst the whole family of Adam in bliss hereafter--I with
these notions (which, perhaps, some may style absurd) look upon the
friendly Author--as a being far superior to any great name upon your
continent.--I could wish that every member of each house of parliament
had one of these books.--And if his Majesty perused one through before
breakfast--though it might spoil his appetite--yet the consciousness
of having it in his power to facilitate the great work--would give
an additional sweetness to his tea.--Phyllis’s poems do credit to
nature--and put art--merely as art--to the blush.--It reflects nothing
either to the glory or generosity of her master--if she is still his
slave--except he glories in the _low vanity_ of having in his wanton
power a mind animated by Heaven--a genius superior to himself. The list
of splendid, titled, learned names, in confirmation of her being the
real authoress, alas! shews how very poor the acquisition of wealth
and knowledge are--without generosity--feeling--and humanity.--These
good great folks all knew--and perhaps admired--nay, praised Genius in
bondage--and then, like the Priests and the Levites in sacred writ,
passed by--not one good Samaritan amongst them.--I shall be ever glad
to see you--and am, with many thanks,

  Your most humble servant.

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.



LETTER LIX.

TO MR. W----E.


  Charles Street, March 12, 1778.

WILL you forgive me--if I take the liberty to trouble you with getting
my enclosed plan inserted in the General Advertiser, or Morning
Intelligencer, as speedily as they conveniently can, if after you have
perused it, you think it admissable?--if not, destroy it; for I have
not yet vanity sufficient to think whatever I privately approve must
of course be approveable.--I send you the copy of what real affection
made me draw up for the late unfortunate Dr. Dodd[5] (which, as it
never was inserted, I must believe the learned editor thought it too
insignificant for the laudable service it was meant to help).--My
respects attend your whole family.--I am, dear Sir,

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


I prefer Mr. Parker’s paper for many reasons;--let me have your opinion
of my plan--for, in serious truth, I think it ought to be put in
execution.

[5] Mr. Sancho also wrote to Dr. Dodd when in prison.



For THE GENERAL ADVERTISER.


  Palace Yard, March 12, 1778.

  SIR,

THE Romans were wont to decree public honors on the man who was so
fortunate as to save the life of a citizen; a noble act of policy,
founded on true humanity, to stimulate the endeavours of every
individual towards acts of benevolence and brotherly regard to each
other. Actuated by zeal to my prince, and love to my country--I mean
to deserve well of both, by publishing, through the channel of your
paper, a plan for greatly diminishing the national debt; or, in case
a war with the House Bourbon should be inevitable, for raising three
or four years supplies, without oppresing the merchant, mechanic,
or labouring husbandman; in short, without abridging one needful
indulgence, or laying any fellow-subject under the least self-denying
restraint.

Mr. Editor, we all know that in noble families plate is merely ideal
wealth--and in very many houses of your first connexions and over-grown
fortunes, there are vast quantities of it old and useless, kept merely
for the antiquity of its fashion, and the ostentatious proof of the
grandeur of ancestry. Our neighbours the French (if I mistake not) in
the last war had the spirit (when the treasures of their Grand Monarque
were nearly exhausted) to send their plate generously to the mint,
in aid of national honour and security. Their churchmen have often
shewn the laity the glorious example of aiding the state. We, to our
immortal honour, have never yielded them the palm in courage, wisdom,
or gallantry. Let every gentleman, whose landed property exceeds
500_l._ _per annum_, give up, without reserve, his useful family plate,
all except knives, forks, and spoons, which may be deemed useful and
necessary. I trust, such is the exalted spirit of the British nobility
and gentry, that they will resign with chearfulness what they can so
well do without. Should this meet (as I hope it will) with the chearful
assent of the public, let the quantities, so nobly given, be printed
against the names of the patriotic donors, as a lasting testimony of
their zeal for the public good, and a glorious proof of the internal
riches of this queen of isles!

  +Africanus.+



To the Editor of the MORNING POST.


  SIR,

I AM one of the many who have been often edified by the graceful
eloquence and truly Christian doctrine of the unfortunate Dr. Dodd.--As
a Divine, he had, and still has, my love and reverence; his faults I
regret; but, alas! I feel myself too guilty to cast a stone: justice
has her claims;--but Mercy, the anchor of my hope, inclines me to
wish he might meet with Royal clemency--his punishments have already
been pretty severe!--the loss of Royal favor--the cowardly attacks of
malicious buffoonry--and the over-strained zeal for rigid justice in
the prosecution.--Oh! would to God the reverend bishops, clergy, &c.
would join in petitioning the Throne for his life!--it would save the
holy order from indignity, and even the land itself from the reproach
of making too unequal distinctions in punishments. He might, by the
rectitude of his future life, and due exertion of his matchless
powers, be of infinite service--as chaplain to the poor convicts
on the river, which would be a punishment, and, at the same time,
serve for a proof or test of his contrition--and the sincerity of a
zeal he has often manifested (in the pulpit) for the service of true
Religion--and he may rise the higher by his late fall--and do more real
service to the thoughtless and abandoned culprits, than a preacher,
whose character might perhaps be deemed spotless. If this hint should
stimulate a pen, or heart, like the good B----p of Chester’s, to exert
itself in the behalf of a man who has formerly been alive to every act
of heaven-born charity--the writer of this will have joy, even in his
last moments, in the reflection that he paid a mite of the vast debt he
owes Dr. Dodd as a preacher.

  I---- S----.



LETTER LX.

TO MRS. H----.


  Charles Street, April 9, 1778.

  DEAR MADAM,

I HAVE to thank you for repeated favors--and I do most sincerely.--You
have a pleasure in doing acts of kindness--I wish from my soul that
your example was more generally imitated.--I have given to the care
of Mr. W---- one of Giardini’s benefit-tickets--which I present not
to you, Madam, but to Mr. H----, that he may judge of fidlers’ taste
and fidlers’ consequence in our grand metropolis--the ticket was a
present from the great Giardini to the lowly Sancho--and I offer it as
a tribute of musical affection to thy worthy partner--and with it, to
both, the sincereest best wishes and respects of their much obliged
servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER LXI.

TO MR. J---- W----E.


  May 4, 1778.

  MY DEAR W----E,

YOUR short letter gave me much pleasure--which would have been
enlarged, had your epistle been longer;--but I make allowances--as I
ought--for the number of friends who wish equally with me--and expect
to be gratified. You are greatly fortunate in enjoying your health--for
which I doubt not but you are truly thankful to the Almighty Giver.--As
to your success, it is the best comment upon your conduct;--for
rectitude of principle and humble deportment, added to strict attention
and good-nature, must make even fools and knaves wish you well--though
envy will mix itself with the transient kindness of such--but with
such noble natures as you went out happily connected with, you are
every day sowing the good seeds of your future fortune.--I hope to
live to see you return--the comfort and honor of your good father and
family;--but observe--I do not wish you half a million, clogged with
the tears and blood of the poor natives;--no--a decent competence got
with honesty--and that will keep increasing like the widow’s cruse,
and descend down to posterity with accumulated blessings.--You desire
to transfer your share in me to your brother Joe;--now be it known to
you--Joe has interest sufficient in his own natural right with me, to
secure him every attention in my poor power. But you flatter, my good
friend--though your flattery carries a good excuse with it--you flatter
the poor.

I say nothing of politics--I hate such subjects;--the public papers
will inform you of mistakes--blood--taxes--misery--murder--the
obstinacy of a few--and the madness and villainy of a many.--I expect
a very, very long letter from you--in answer to a sermon I wrote you
last year.--Miss ---- is still divinely fair;--she is a good girl, but
no match for Nabobs.--Mrs. C---- is as handsome as ever--and R---- as
friendly. God bless them! feasting or fasting! sleeping or waking!
May God’s providence watch over and protect them--and all such!--Your
brother Frank is a sweet boy--a painter, who would wish to draw a
cherub, will find no fitter subject.--The C----ds--but what have I to
do with good people, who will of course all write for themselves?--so
let them.--Your father--Oh Jack! what a cordial!--what a rich luxury is
it to be able to contribute, by well-doing, to a father’s, nay a whole
family of kindred love, and heart-felt affection! what a bliss to add
to all their happiness--and to insure your own at the same time!--May
this high pleasure be thine! and may the God of truth and fountain of
all good enrich thy heart and head with his spirit and wisdom--crown
your labours with success--and guard you from avarice--ambition--and
every Asiatic evil--so that your native land may receive you with
riches and honor--your friends with true joy--heightened with sincere
respect! So wishes--so prophesies--thy true friend and obliged servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXII.


  Charles Street, May 9, 1778.

TO MISS C----.

THE Sanchos--in full synod--humbly present their respectful compliments
to the good Mrs. C---- and Miss ---- (what a C----!) are happy in
hearing they got well into Suffolk--that they continue so--and
enjoy the beauties of this sweetest of seasons--with its attendant
dainties--fresh butter--sweet milk--and the smiles of boon nature--on
hill and dale--fields and groves--shepherds piping--milk-maids
dancing--and the chearful respondent carolings of artless joy in the
happy husbandmen--Should you perchance rise early in pursuit of May
dew--I earnestly make it my request--you will save--and bring to town
a little bottle of it for my particular use.--Happy--thrice happy
nymphs--!--be merciful to the poor hapless swains. The powerful little
god of mischief and delight now--at this blest season--prunes his
beauteous wings--new feathers and sharpens his arrows--tight strings
his bow--and takes too sure his aim.--Oh! lads, beware the month of
May. For you, blest girls--nature, decked out as in a birth-day suit,
courts you with all its sweets where-e’er you tread--the grass and
wanton flowerets fondly kiss your feet--and humbly bow their pretty
heads--to the gentle sweepings of your under-petticoats--the soft and
amorous southern breezes toy with your curls, and uncontroul’d steal
numberless kisses--the blackbirds and thrushes suspend their songs--and
eye beauty and humanity with pleasure;--and, could their hearts be
read, thank most sincerely the generous fair hands that fed them in the
winter;--the cuckoo sings on every tree the joys of married life--the
shrubbery throws out all its sweets to charm you--though, alas! an
unlucky parciplepliviaplemontis seizes my imagination--my brains are
on the ferment--Miss C---- will excuse me.--Make my best wishes to
Mrs. C----, tell her I hope she rides and walks in moderation--eats
heartily, and laughs much--sleeps soundly, dreams happily--that
she--you--my R---- and your connexions--may enjoy the good of this life
without its evil--is the true Black-a-moor wish of

  I. SANCHO.


Now mark, this is not meant as a letter--no--it is an address to the
ladies.--Pray our best respects to Mr. and Mrs. B----; it is an address
to Spring-birds and flowers--and when you see Johnny, our loves--it
is a caution to the swains against the popery of Love.--The K---- and
Q---- are just now returned from Portsmouth.--I said nothing in regard
to the month by way of advice to the ladies.--The Spectator--blessings
on his memory--has.--They say the Royal chaise was covered with
dirt--even the very glasses.--Quistus Quirini--was found very late last
night.--Nothing broke--except the hemmings of advantage.--They say the
Queen never looked better.--But what amaz’d most people--both the Royal
postillions rode the off-horses--which it is expected the Gazette of
this night will explain--Adieu.

  Is not that--_a good one_.



From the PUBLIC ADVERTISER of May 13th, 1778.

Inserted unknown to Mr. Sancho.

TO MR. B----.


  DEAR SIR,

I COULD not see Mr. de Groote till this morning--he approached the
threshold--poor man--in very visible illness;--yet, under the pressure
of a multitude of infirmities--he could not forget his recent humane
benefactor. With faultering speech he enquired much who you were;--and,
in the conclusion, put up his most earnest petitions to the Father of
Mercies in your behalf--which (if the prayers of an indigent genius
have as much efficacy as those of a fat bishop) I should hope and
trust you may one day be the better for.--He is in direct descent
from the famous Hugo Grotius by the father’s side.--His own mother
was daughter to Sir Thomas Hesketh. He married the widow Marchioness
de Melaspina.--His age is 86; he had a paralytic stroke--and has a
rupture.--His eyes are dim, even with the help of spectacles.--In
truth, he comes close to Shakspeare’s description in his last age of
man--“Sans teeth--sans eyes--sans taste--sans every thing.”

He has the honour to be known to Dr. Johnson--and the luck to be
sometimes remembered by Mr. Garrick.--If you help him--you do yourself
a kindness--me a pleasure--and he, poor soul, a good--which he may one
time throw in your teeth--in that country where good actions are in
higher estimation than stars--ribbons--or crowns.

  Yours, most respectfully,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


He lodges at Nᵒ. 9, New Pye-Street, Westminster.



LETTER LXIII.

TO MR. R----.


MY good friend, take my thanks for your kind attention;--and,
believe me, I am exceedingly mortified at being thus thrust forward
in the public prints.--You may observe, by what has happened to me,
how very difficult it is to do even a right thing, so as to escape
uneasiness.--Trust me, this same letter (though wrote, I dare say,
with the kindest intention imaginable) will do me hurt in the opinion
of many;--I therefore repeat, I like it not--and dare own to my friend
R---- it hurts my pride.--You may laugh--but it’s truth.--The drawing
was gone to my friend S----, but I recovered it in time.--Hope the
ladies are well--and that it will amuse them for a few moments. The
young man who invented the design is no artist--but I think he has
genius.



LETTER LXIV.

TO MISS C----.


  May 14, 1778.

WHAT terms shall I find to express my gratitude to the obliging, the
friendly Miss C----, for the pleasure we enjoyed from the contents
of the best letter that has been wrote this good year?--You, who
delight to please, will also feel high satisfaction in knowing
you have succeeded.--We hope the change of weather has had no ill
effect upon our friend--and that she will adhere to her promise in
remembering how ill she has been--and that it is too probable any
cold got by over-exertion or fatigue may occasion a relapse. We have
had much thunder and rain this morning--and, if old saws say true, we
are to expect a continuance of about thirty-seven days good ducking
weather;--we will leave it to the all-wise Disposer of events, with
this comfortable reflection--that whatever he wills--is best.--We are
happy to hear such an account of the ----; she especially, as very
likely a good course of fatigue, sweetened with gain, may contribute as
much to her health as her pleasure, and re-establish her perfectly.--We
have nothing stirring in the news way, or any other way:--the town
is literally empty, saving a few sharks of both sexes, who are too
poor to emigrate to the camps or watering-places, and so are forced
to prey upon one another in town.--I protest, it is to me the most
difficult of things to write to one of your female geniuses;--there is
a certain degree of cleverality (if I may so call it), an easy kind of
derangement of periods, a gentleman-like--fashionable--careless--seesaw
of dialogue--which I know no more of than you do of cruelty.--I write
as I think--foolishly--and you write well--why?--because you think
well.--So much for praise--compliment--flattery, &c.--My respects
attend Mr. B---- and Mrs. S---- and Mrs. ----. Tell Miss A----s, one
of us will come to see her--perhaps.--I have received a kind letter
from my good friend the doctor--and one also for the surgeon to the
guards, dated New York, June 12:--he thinks the commissioners might
have saved themselves the trouble, as they are like to come back just
as wise as they went.--The Panton-Street good folks are well, for what
I know--not having seen them since I last had the honor of addressing
Mrs. C----. Adieu.--Our best respects--with Kitty’s and Billy’s in
particular--attend Monsieur Nuts[6];--pray tell him so--with all
civility;--he deserves it on the score of his own merits--were it not
even so--yet surely, I think, we should regard him for the sake of our
friend.

Mrs. Sancho joins me, in every thing to Self and Co.

  Yours, dear Miss C----,
  with zeal and esteem,

  IGN. SANCHO.

[6] A favourite Spaniel.



LETTER LXV.

TO MR. I----.


  May 22, 1778.

  DEAR SIR,

I CLAIM your indulgence--and modestly insist upon your help.--The
companions to this billet are the hobby-horses of a young man that I
respect.--Darley has used him with less attention than he ought--having
kept the press affair above a month--and done nothing--so he is (of
course) out of favor.--I want first your approbation--that gained, I
wish your interest, to get them speedily into the world;--there are
some inaccuracies in both--which any regular artist will amend.--As
my friend is self-taught, his errors must be excused.--I wish I could
wait upon you;--but my stiff joint--my leg--is so unwell, that at
present I must give up any hopes of that pleasure.--I hope Mrs.
I----’s health is perfectly restored.--I should wish to win her over
to our interests in the affairs before you: in good faith, I like the
subject myself--and can fancy I discern something like wit in both of
them.--Forgive and assist yours faithfully,

  +Sancho+ the Big.



LETTER LXVI.

TO MR. H----.


  Charles Street, Westminster, May 31, 1778.

THE Sanchonian chapter of enquiries, dictated by an esteem nearly
bordering upon affection (perhaps as warmly sincere as most modern
friendships), runs thus--How do you do? Are you the better for your
journey? Did the exercise create any amendment of appetite? Was your
travelling party agreeable? And how did you find the good couple?--The
sweet sensations arising from the sight of those we love, the reviewing
the places, either houses, fields, hedges, stiles, or posts, of
our early morn of life acquaintance, the train of pleasurable ideas
awakened, are more salutary than the college of grave faces.--Tell
me much about yourself--and more about your honored parents, whom I
hope you found as well as you wished--your kindred at Lancaster, to
whom my hearty wishes--and to all who have charity enough to admit
dark faces into the fellowship of Christians.--Say much for me to
your good father and mother--in the article of respect thou canst not
exaggerate;--excepting conjugal, there are no attentions so tenderly
heart-soothing as the parental.--Amidst the felicity of thy native
fields, may’st thou find health, and diffuse pleasure round the
respectable circle of thy friends!--No news--but that Keppel is in
chace of de-Chartres.

  Yours truly,

  I. SANCHO.


If you can afford a line, inclose it in the inclosed.--Mrs. Sancho and
girls wish you every pleasure.



LETTER LXVII.

TO MR. M----.


  June 10, 1778.

    “’Tis with our judgements as our watches--none
    “Go just alike--yet each believes his own.”
  +Pope.+

SO, my wise critic--blessings on thee,--and thanks for thy sagacious
discovery!--Sterne, it seems, stole his grand outline of character from
Fielding--and who did Fielding plunder? thou criticizing jack-ape!--As
to S----, perhaps you may be right--not absolutely right--nor quite
so very _altogether_ wrong--but that’s not my affair.--Fielding and
Sterne both copied Nature--their pallettes stored with proper colours
of the brightest dye--these masters were both great originals--their
outline correct--bold--and free--Human Nature was their subject--and
though their colouring was widely different, yet _here_ and there
some features in each might bear a little resemblance--some faint
likeness to each other--as for example--in your own words--Toby
and Allworthy--the external drapery of the two are as wide as the
poles--their hearts--perhaps--twins of the same blessed form and
principles;--but for the rest of the Dramatis Personæ, you must
strain hard, my friend, before you can twist them into likeness
sufficient to warrant the censure of copying.--Parson Adams is yet
more distant--his chief feature is absence of thought. The world
affords me many such instances--but in the course of my reading, I
have not met with his likeness, except in mere goodness of heart--in
that, perhaps, Jack M---- may equal him--but then he is so confounded
jingle-headed!--Read, boy, read--give Tom Jones a second _fair_
reading!--Fielding’s wit is obvious--his humour poignant--dialogue
just, and truly dramatic--colouring quite nature--and keeping
chaste.--Sterne equals him in every thing; and in one thing excels
him and all mankind--which is the distribution of his lights; which
he has so artfully varied throughout his work, that, the oftener they
are examined, the more beautiful they appear.--They were two great
masters, who painted for posterity--and, I prophesy, will charm to the
end of the English speech.--If Sterne has had any one great master in
his eye--it was Swift, his countryman--the first wit of this or any
other nation;--but there is this grand difference between them--Swift
excels in grave-faced irony--whilst Sterne lashes his whips with jolly
laughter.--I could wish you to compare (after due attentive reading)
Swift and Sterne--Milton and Young--Thomson and Akenside--and then give
your free opinion to yours ever.

  I. SANCHO.


I want a handful or two of good fresh peach leaves--contrive to send
me them when opportunity serves--and word, at the first leisure
period, how Miss _Anne Sister-like_--_George Grateful-look_--Mrs. &c.
&c.--and how your worship’s hip does.--You had set up my bristles in
such guise--in attacking poor Sterne--that I had quite forgot to give
you a flogging for your punning grocery epistle--but omittance is no
quittance.--Swift and Sterne were different in this--Sterne was truly
a noble philanthropist--Swift was rather cynical;--what Swift would
fret and fume at--such as the petty accidental _sourings_ and _bitters_
in life’s cup--you plainly may see, Sterne would laugh at--and parry
off by a larger humanity, and regular good-will to man. I know you will
laugh at me--do--I am content;--if I am an enthusiast in any thing, it
is in favor of my Sterne.



LETTER LXVIII.

TO MR. J---- W----.


  1778.

YOUR good father insists on my scribbling a sheet of absurdities,
and gives a notable reason for it--that is, ‘Jack will be pleased
with it.’--Now be it known to you--I have a respect both for father
and son--yea, for the whole family, who are every soul (that I have
the honour or pleasure to know any thing of) tinctured and leavened
with all the obsolete goodness of old times--so that a man runs some
hazard, in being seen in the W----e’s society, of being biassed to
Christianity.--I never see your poor father--but his eyes betray his
feelings--for the hopeful youth in India--a tear of joy dancing upon
the lids--is a plaudit not to be equalled this side death!--See the
effects of right-doing, my worthy friend; continue in the tract of
rectitude--and despise poor paltry Europeans--titled Nabobs.--Read your
Bible--as day follows night, God’s blessing follows virtue;--honour and
riches bring up the rear--and the end is peace.--Courage, my boy--I
have done preaching.--Old folks love to seem wise--and if you are silly
enough to correspond with grey hairs--take the consequence.--I have had
the pleasure of reading most of your letters, through the kindness of
your father.--Youth is naturally prone to vanity: such is the weakness
of human nature, that pride has a fortress in the best of hearts.--I
know no person that possesses a better than Johnny W----;--but although
flattery is poison to youth, yet truth obliges me to confess that your
correspondence betrays no symptom of vanity--but teems with truths of
an honest affection--which merits praise--and commands esteem.

In some of your letters which I do not recollect, you speak
(with honest indignation) of the treachery and chicanery of the
natives[7].--My good friend, you should remember from whom they learnt
those vices:--the first Christian visitors found them a simple,
harmless people--but the cursed avidity for wealth urged these first
visitors (and all the succeeding ones) to such acts of deception--and
even wanton cruelty--that the poor ignorant natives soon learnt to turn
the knavish and diabolical arts which they soon imbibed--upon their
teachers.

I am sorry to observe that the practice of your country (which as
a resident I love--and for its freedom, and for the many blessings
I enjoy in it, shall ever have my warmest wishes--prayers--and
blessings;) I say, it is with reluctance that I must observe your
country’s conduct has been uniformly wicked in the East--West
Indies--and even on the coast of Guinea.--The grand object of
English navigators--indeed of all Christian navigators--is
money--money--money--for which I do not pretend to blame
them.--Commerce was meant, by the goodness of the Deity, to diffuse the
various goods of the earth into every part--to unite mankind in the
blessed chains of brotherly love--society--and mutual dependence:--the
enlightened Christian should diffuse the riches of the Gospel of
peace--with the commodities of his respective land.--Commerce, attended
with strict honesty--and with Religion for its companion--would be a
blessing to every shore it touched at.--In Africa, the poor wretched
natives--blessed with the most fertile and luxuriant soil--are
rendered so much the more miserable for what Providence meant as a
blessing:--the Christians’ abominable traffic for slaves--and the
horrid cruelty and treachery of the petty Kings--encouraged by their
Christian customers--who carry them strong liquors, to enflame their
national madness--and powder and bad fire arms, to furnish them with
the hellish means of killing and kidnapping.--But enough--it is a
subject that sours my blood--and I am sure will not please the friendly
bent of your social affections.--I mention these, only to guard my
friend against being too hasty in condemning the knavery of a people,
who, bad as they may be--possibly were made worse by their Christian
visitors.--Make human nature thy study wherever thou residest--whatever
the religion or the complexion, study their hearts.--Simplicity,
kindness, and charity, be thy guide;--with these, even Savages will
respect you--and God will bless you!

Your father--who sees every improvement of his boy with
delight--observes that your hand-writing is much for the better;--in
truth, I think it as well as any modest man can wish:--if my long
epistles do not frighten you--and I live till the return of next
spring--perhaps I shall be enabled to judge how much you are improved
since your last favour.--Write me a deal about the natives--the
soil and produce--the domestic and interior manners of the
people--customs--prejudices--fashions--and follies.--Alas! we have
plenty of the two last here--and what is worse, we have politics--and
a detestable Brothers war--where the right hand is hacking and hewing
the left--whilst Angels weep at our madness--and Devils rejoice at the
ruinous prospect.

Mr. R---- and the ladies are well.--Johnny R---- has favourd me with
a long letter; he is now grown familiar with danger--and can bear the
whistling of bullets--the cries and groans of the human species--the
roll of drums--clangor of trumpets--shouts of combatants--and thunder
of cannon--all these he can bear with soldier-like fortitude--with now
and then a secret wish for the society of his London friends--in the
sweet blessed security of peace and friendship.

This, young man, is my second letter;--I have wrote till I am stupid,
I perceive--I ought to have found it out two pages back.--Mrs. Sancho
joins me in good wishes--I join her in the same;--in which double
sense believe me,

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


  Postscript.  (Very short.)

It is with sincere pleasure I hear you have a lucrative
establishment--which will enable you to appear and act with
decency;--your good sense will naturally lead you to proper œconomy--as
distant from frigid parsimony, as from a heedless extravagancy;--but as
you may possibly have some time to spare upon your hands for necessary
recreation--give me leave to obtrude my poor advice.--I have heard it
more than once observed of fortunate adventurers--they have come home
enriched in purse--but wretchedly barren in intellects:--the mind, my
dear Jack, wants food--as well as the stomach;--why then should not one
wish to increase in knowledge as well as money?--Young says--“Books are
fair Virtue’s advocates and friends:”--now my advice is--to preserve
about 20_l._ a year for two or three seasons--by which means you may
gradually form a useful, elegant, little library.--Suppose now the
first year you send the order and the money to your father--for the
following books--which I recommend from my own superficial knowledge as
useful.--A man should know a little of Geography--History, nothing more
useful, or pleasant.

  Robertson’s Charles the Fifth, 4 vols.
  Goldsmith’s History of Greece, 2 vols.
  Ditto, of Rome, 2 vols.
  Ditto, of England, 4 vols.

Two small volumes of Sermons--useful--and very sensible--by one Mr.
Williams, a dissenting minister--which are as well as fifty--for I
love not a multiplicity of doctrines--a few plain tenets--easy--simple
and directed to the heart--are better than volumes of controversial
nonsense.--Spectators--Guardians--and Tatlers--you have of
course.--Young’s Night-Thoughts--Milton--and Thomson’s Seasons were my
summer companions for near twenty years--they mended my heart--they
improved my veneration to the Deity--and increased my love to my
neighbours.

You have to thank God for strong natural parts--a feeling humane
heart;--you write with sense and judicious discernment. Improve
yourself, my dear Jack, that if it should please God to return
you to your friends with the fortune of a man in upper rank, the
embellishments of your mind may be ever considered as greatly superior
to your riches--and only inferior to the goodness of your heart. I give
you the above as a sketch--your father and other of your friends will
improve upon it in the course of time--I do indeed judge that the above
is enough at first--in conformity with the old adage----“A few Books
and a few Friends, and those well chosen.” Adieu. Yours,

  I. SANCHO.

[7] Extracts of two letters from Mr. W----e to his Father, dated
    Bombay, 1776 and 1777.

    “1776. I have introduced myself to Mr. G----, who behaved very
    friendly in giving me some advice, which was very necessary, as the
    inhabitants, who are chiefly Blacks, are a set of canting,
    deceitful people, and of whom one must have great caution.”

    “1777. I am now thoroughly convinced, that the account which Mr.
    G---- gave me of the natives of this country is just and true; that
    they are a set of deceitful people, and have not such a word as
    Gratitude in their language, neither do they know what it is;--and
    as to their dealings in trade, they are like unto Jews.”



LETTER LXVIII.

TO MR. R----.


  July 16, 1773.

  DEAR M----,

S*** is a riddle--I will serve him if I can--were I rich, he should
have no reason to despise me--but he must learn to try to serve
himself--I wish you would throw your good sense upon paper for
him--advice from one of his own years would sink deeper than the fusty
phlegmatic saws of an old man--do, in charity, give him half an hour’s
labour--I do really think that you and S*** have sense enough for a
dozen young fellows--and if it pleased God it were so divided--they
would each be happier, wiser, and richer, than S*** or M----. And this
by the way of thanking you--pooh--will do that when I see you--and if
that never happens, a good action thanks itself.--Mr. Garrick called
upon S---- on Tuesday night, and won his heart; he called to pay poor
de Groote’s lodgings, sat with him some time, and chatted friendly.

I admire your modesty in grudging me two letters for one--and greasing
me with the fulsoms of sneering praise--Sirrah, be quiet--what,
you Snoodle-poop! have you any care--wife--or family? You ought to
write volumes--it gives expansion to your thoughts--facility to your
invention--ease to your diction--and pleases your Friend,

  SANCHO.


Write, Knave--or--or--or--



LETTER LXIX.

TO MRS. C----.


  July 23, 1778.

  DEAR MADAM,

SHALL I acknowledge myself a weak superstitious Fool? Yes, I will tell
the honest truth--you have this foolish letter in consequence of a last
night’s dream--Queen Mab has been with me--aye, and with Mrs. Sancho
too--for my part, I dare not reveal half my dream--but upon telling
our night’s visions over the tea-table at breakfast--it was judged
rather uncommon for us all to dream of the same party.--Now, I own, I
have great reason to dream of you waking--for you have been a true and
uncommon friend to me and mine--neither have I the least objection to
these nightly visits, so as I have the pleasure to meet you (though but
in vision) in good health. Thy health is the very thing that I doubt
about--therefore graciously let us know by the next post that you are
well, and mean to take every prudent step so to continue. That you
have left off tea, I do much approve of--but insist that you make your
visitors drink double quantity--that I may be no loser. I hope you find
cocoa agree with you--it should be made always over-night, and boiled
for above fifteen minutes; but you must caution Miss C---- not to
drink it--for there is nothing so fattening to little folks. The R--ns
waylaid my friend R----, and pressed Dame Sancho and self into the
service last Sunday--we had a good and social dinner; and Mrs. Sancho
forced me to stay supper--I think the Doctor looks as well as I ever
saw him--indeed I could read in his chearful countenance that he left
you well--I do not doubt but you have paid a visit to the camp--and
seen brother O---- in his glory--I hope he will have regard to his
health, and for profit I do think it must answer better to him than to
(almost) any other man in the country. Pray be so kind to make our best
respects to Miss A----s, and to every one who delighteth in Blackamoor
greetings.--We have no news but old lies--scoured and turned like
misers coats which serve very well. We gape and swallow--wonder and
look wise--conjurers over a news-paper, and blockheads at home.--Adieu!
let me hear that you are very well; it will please Mrs. Sancho; and, if
I know any thing of her husband, it will be no less pleasing to your
much obliged humble servant and friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.


N. B. I walk upon two legs now.

Our best respects to Miss C----, hope she is intent upon camp fashions;
but caution her, in my name, to be on her guard. Cupid resides in camp
by choice. Oh, Miss C----! beware--beware of the little God.

  I. S.


Now this is writing to Miss C----.



LETTER LXX.

TO MR. K----.


  July 23, 1778.

I RECEIVED yours with satisfaction, as it gave me a certainty of
your being (upon the whole) much better. As to your saying you are
not girlishly inclined--why, I give you credit for it.--Thou must
watch--and pray--for Satan is artful, and knoweth all our weak
parts--and that dirty little blind feathered-shouldered scoundrel of
a boy, master Cupid--lurks couchant--in the pupil of an eye--in the
hollow of a dimple--in the cherry-ripe plumpness of a pair of lips--in
the artfully timid pressure of a fair hand--in the complimentary
squeeze of a farewell--in short, and in one word, watch--watch.

So you forgot all I said about Charles the Fifth--well, you gave
your reasons--but when you have got through your sugar-works--I hope
you will give due attention to Robertson:--his first volume is the
most learned, and the dryest, yet absolutely necessary to be read
with great attention--as it will render the other much more easy,
clear, and intelligible--make yourself tolerably acquainted with
the feudal system of Europe, which you will find explained in his
first volume--the rest will amply reward you.--I recommend to you to
make extracts upon the passages which strike you most--it will be of
infinite use to you--as I trust you will find it as much a history of
Europe during two centuries, as of Charles the Fifth.--After all, I
shall fume and scold if you do not read this work--and abuse you if
you do not relish it.--You flatter my vanity very agreeably--in ever
supposing that any hints of mine should conduce to the culture of your
little farm:--be that as it may--I am happy in the certainty of never
intentionally misleading or misadvising any male youth--I wish I could
say, Virgin!--Farewell! read, reflect! then write, and let me have your
opinions.

  Yours sincerely,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXI.

TO MR. R----.


  July 31, 1778.

  DEAR FRIEND,

THANKS for your very valuable letter, and its obliging companion:--your
brother writes in good spirits--but I fear the m--n--ty members were
right in their predictions of the success of the commissioners.--Alas!
what desolation, destruction, and ruin, bad hearts or bad heads have
brought upon this poor country!--I must, however, give Mr. J-- R----
another letter, he fluctuates so terribly in his opinions--as you will
see by the contents of his letter to me, which I hope you will soon
enable me to shew you.--Yes, I must and will give him a flogging,
which you will say is extremely grateful, and a civil return for his
kindness in thinking of me.--I have had a very kind and good letter
from the little wren;--we were pleased to hear Mrs. C---- had enjoyed
so great a share of health;--she, who is lovely even in sickness,
with the additional roseate bloom of health and flow of spirits,
will be almost too much for meer mortals to bear:--tell her from me,
to get sick before she comes up, in pity to the beaux.--Mrs. Sancho
is better;--poor Kitty goes on after the old sort;--the happiest,
my R----, in this life, have something to sigh for!--alas! I have
enough!--I feel much pleasure in the happy view Mr. and Mrs. R--n have
before them;--I have no sort of doubt but they will be successfully
happy--I should have true pleasure to see my friend Mr. J. R---- in
as likely a road.--I have spoke and wrote to Mr. W---- to look out
sharp.--Time, which ripens revolutions, and murders empires--Time will,
I hope, produce happiness and content to us all.--Your coming to town
will give me spirits; for, large as the town is, I cannot say I have
more than one friend in it:--come, you and I shall be rich indeed; for,
I believe, few of the sons of Adam can boast of having more than two
real friends.--The best respects to Mrs. C----, and the amiable little
C----, from

  Yours, &c.

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.



LETTER LXXII.

TO MISS C----.


  Sept. 4, 1778.

FOR this month past, we have wished to hear something about you;--and
every day, for these two past weeks, have I had it in serious
contemplation to put the question not to the amiable Miss C----, but
to my friend R----, who, notwithstanding your friendly excuse, is, I
do think, rather culpable for his silence.--But hang recrimination;
your goodness is more than sufficient to exculpate a thousand such
sinners. We thank you, with heart-felt pleasure, for the information
of our and your dear friend Mrs. C----’s health, which I hope she will
be careful of, for our and many sakes.--I have a favour to beg of
her, through your mediation, which is this--I have a pair of Antigua
turtles--the gift of Mr. P----, who kindly burthened himself with the
care of them. The true property is vested in Kitty;--but so it is--we
having neither warmth nor room, and Kitty’s good godmother having
both, and that kind of humanity withal which delighteth in doing good
to orphans--I, in the name of Kate and her doves, do through you--our
trusty council--petition Mrs. C---- in behalf of said birds.--Were I
poetically turned--what a glorious field for fancy flights--such as
the blue-eyed Goddess with her flying carr--her doves and sparrows,
&c. &c.--Alas! my imagination is as barren as the desart sands of
Arabia;--but, in serious truth, the shop (the only place I have to
put them in) is so cold, that I shall be happy to billet them to
warmer quarters, which shall be done as soon as Mrs. C---- announces
her consent, and empowers Molly to take them in.--As to news--we have
none worth heeding!--your camps have ruined all trade--but that of
hackney-men. You much surprize us in the account of your late fair
visitant--but pleased us more in the account of O----’s success:
the season has been, through God’s blessing, as favourable as his
friends;--he is a lucky soul.--The S----s are both well, I hope, to
whom pray be so kind to remember us:--as to friend R----, tell him,
that whatever censure his omissions in writing may draw upon him, when
the goodness of his heart, and urbanity of soul, is flung into the
other scale, the faulty scale kicks the beam--we forgive, because we
love--and love sees no faults.

Mrs. Sancho joins me in love and good wishes to both of you.--Kitty has
been very poorly for above a month past, and continues but very so,
so.--Betsy mends fast;--Billy needs no mending at all--the rest are
well--and all join in respects and compliments to Nutts.

  I am,
  Dear Miss C-- and Co’s
  Most obliged,
  humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXIII.

TO MR. M----.


  Sept. 16, 1778.

  DEAR M----,

YOURS just received--and by great good luck I have found Mr. B--’s
list, which I inclose--and God speed your labours! Poor ---- sets off
this evening for ----, to take one parting look of his ----, and on
Monday sets off fresh for ----. Mr. H--’s anxieties end in good luck
at last; he also on Monday enters in one of the best houses in the
city.--On Thursday I hope you will succeed in your affair--and then
my three Geniuses will be happy;--I have had plague and perplexity
enough with two of you.--When do you think of coming to town? In my
last was some of the best poetry--that has--or was--aye, aye. Pray,
Sir, read it over once more. Well, what do you, or can you, say to
it? Oh, envy--envy!--but, Mr. Monkey, the wit and true poetry of that
billet must make amends for the shortness of it.--This is Saturday
night--consequently it must be esteemed a favour that I write at
all:--my head aches--and, though my invention temes with brilliancies,
I can only remember that I am very much

  Yours,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXIV.

TO MISS C----.


  October 1, 1778.

IT is recorded of some great personage, I forget who, that they had
so pleasing a manner in giving a refusal, that the _Refused_ has
left _them_ with more satisfaction under a rejection--than many
have experienced from receiving a _favour_ conferred with perhaps
more kindness than _grace_.--So it fares with me--I had anticipated
the future happiness of my new friends--the comforts of warmth--the
pleasures of being fed and noticed, talked to and watched by the best
heart and finest face within a large latitude--but I am content--I am
certain of the _inconveniency_--and my best thanks are due, which I
pray you make with our best wishes.--I am sorry, both for O---- and my
friend’s sake, that the camp breaks up so soon--as to brother O----,
his harvest has, I hope, been plentiful and well got in--my friend
poor S----, like most modest men of merit, is unlucky--he set out
before I got either my friend R----’s or your letter--his best way is
to turn about--and may good luck over take him--detain him--fill his
pockets--and send him in glee home again!--This is more to be wished
than expected.--If he falls in your way, I shall envy him--he will meet
Hospitality and the Graces.--Betsy and Kitty are both invalids--Mrs.
Sancho is well, and joins me in every good wish.--Next month I hope
brings you all to town--bring health and spirits with you.--We have no
news--no trade! consequently no money or credit.

Give Mr. R---- my thanks for his friendly letter in your kindest
manner--and say all to our worthy esteemed friend Mrs. C---- that
gratitude can conceive and friendship dictate--in the names of all the
Sanchos, and at the head place

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXV.

TO MR. S----,


  Yours just received, Thursday,
  Oct. 4, 1778.

    “Whatever--is--is right--the world, ’tis true,
    “Was made for Cæsar--and for Billy too.”

POVERTY and Genius were coupled by the wisdom of Providence, for
wise and good ends no doubt--but that’s a mystery.--I feel for and
pity you.--A pox upon pity and feelings--say I, they neither fill
the belly, nor cloath the body--neither will they find lodging or
procure an inside birth in a rascally stage--Thee and I too well
know all this--but as I am at this present moment, thank fortune!
not quite worth ten shillings, pity--cursed foolish pity--is, with
as silly wishes, all I have to comfort you with.--Were I to throw
out my whole thoughts upon paper, it would take a day’s writing, and
thou would’st be a fool to read it--one dawn of hope I enjoy from the
old saw--that “gloomy beginnings are for the most part blessed with
bright endings:”--may it be so with you, my friend!--at the worst,
you can only face about--and your lodgings and old friends will
cordially receive you--for my part, I have use for every mite of my
philosophy--my state at present is that of suspense--God’s will be done!

This letter will reach you by the hands of a friend indeed--the best
and truest I ever found--a man who, if the worth of his heart were
written in his face, would be esteemed by the whole race of Adam--he
will greet you kindly from the benevolence of his nature--and perhaps
will not dislike you the more for the attachment which for thee is
truly felt by thy sincere friend,

  I. SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho is well--Kitty mends very slow--Billy improves in
sauciness--the girls are pretty good--Monsieur H---- rides
uneasily--his saddle galls him--his beast is restive--I fear he will
never prosecute long journies upon him--he is for smoother roads--a
pacing tit--quilted saddle--snaffle bridle with silken reins--and gold
stirrups.--So mounted we all should like; but I query albeit, though it
might be for the ease of our bodies, whether it would be for the good
of our souls! Adieu.

Should you be so lucky to see B----, the house of the worthy Baronet
Sir C---- B----, mind I caution thee to guard thy heart; you will there
meet with sense that will charm exclusive of beauty--and beauty enough
to subdue even were sense wanting--add to this good-nature and all the
charities in one fair bosom.--Guard! guard thy heart!



LETTER LXXVI.

TO MR. S----.


  October 15, 1778.

YOU want a long letter--where am I to find subject? My heart is sick
with untoward events--poor Kitty is no better--the Duke of Queensbury
ill, dangerously I fear--the best friend and customer I have. M---- is
just now come in--nay he is at my elbow--you know I wish you well--and
that we all are well, Kitty excepted--so let M---- conclude for your
loving friend,

  I. SANCHO.


The above you are to consider as bread and cheese. M---- will give you
goose stuffed with grapes[8]. Mr. H---- called here last night, and
read yours:--he is worked sweetly--what with his office late hours, and
his family’s odd humours--but all is for the best.

[8] Alluding to Mr. S----’s last letter, wherein he had informed Mr.
    Sancho, that that epicurean morsel was one of the many dishes with
    which he had been regaled at a place where he had lately dined.



LETTER LXXVII.

TO MR. R----.


  October 16, 1778.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

ACCEPT my thanks--my best thanks--for your kind readiness in obliging
and serving my friend S----. He has sense, honour, and abilities--these
we should naturally suppose would insure him bread--but that is
not always the case:--in the race of fortune, knaves often win the
prize--whilst honesty is distanced--but then mark the end--whilst
the knave full often meets his deserved punishment, Honesty yoked
with Poverty hugs Peace and Content in his bosom.--But truce with
moralizing--though in serious truth my heart and spirits are low--the
noble and good Duke of Queensbury is, I fear, very dangerously ill:
exclusive of gratitude for past favours, and my own interest in
the hope of future, I grieve for the public loss in him--a man who
ennobled his titles, and made greatness lovely by uniting it with
goodness:--if he dies--his gain is certain, for he has served a Master
who will not wrong him--but the world will lose a rare example, and
the poor a friend! He never knew a day’s illness till now for fifty
years past--his regularity of life and serenity of mind are in his
favour--but his advanced life is against him--80 odd--the great fear is
a mortification in his leg--The K--g and Q--n paid him a visit, as the
prints must have informed you--he came to town on purpose to present
himself at the levee--to thank them for the honour done him--he was
taken ill the Sunday after their Majesties visit--and came to town the
Tuesday after. I have been or sent daily to enquire about him--and was
there about two hours ago. The faculty are pouring in the bark--and
allow his Grace strong wines as much as he can drink.--_God’s will be
done!_

Mr. S----n writes in raptures of you all.--I wonder not at him--I only
wish, for the good of mankind, such characters as B---- house contains
were more plenty.--Poor Kitty continues much the same--the rest are,
thank God, well.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in cordial wishes to self and
ladies. Adieu,

  Yours sincerely and gratefully,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXVIII.

TO MR. S----.


  October 22, 1778.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

HAVE you never beheld a bust with double--no, not double--but with two
very different profiles--one crying, and one laughing?--That is just my
situation at present:--for poor de Groote--huzza!--is presented to the
Charter-house--by--bless him!--the good Archbishop of Canterbury;--but,
by a standing law, he cannot be admitted till a fresh quarter
begins--and, as he says, he may be dead by that time;--we will hope
not;--well, this is the laughing side.--The Duke of Queensbury died
this morning:--Alas! “I ne’er shall look upon his like again!”--the
clearest head, and most humane of hearts:--I have in common with
many--many--a heavy loss--I loved the good Duke--and not without
reason:--he is gone to reap a reward--which St. Paul could not conceive
in the flesh--and which, I will be bold to say, they both perfectly
enjoy at this moment.--God of his mercy grant!--that thee and I--and
all I love--yea--and all I know--may enter eternity with as promising
hopes--and realize the happiness in store for such as the Duke of
Queensbury!

Lord Lincoln died on his passage;--the news came last night; but he has
left a son and daughter.

T---- is well--but still plagued with his uncouth kinsfolk.

  Adieu, Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


Kitty very poorly, the rest all well.



LETTER LXXIX.

TO MR. S----.


  Charles Street, Nov. 29, 1778.

  DEAR S----,

YOURS, dated from Madrass, came safe to hand.--I need not tell you
that your account pleased me--and the style of your letter indicated
a mind purged from its follies, and a better habit of thinking, which
I trust happily preceded a steadier course of action.--I know not
whether or not Providence may not, in your instance, produce much good
out of evil.--I flatter myself you will yet recover, and stand the
firmer in your future life, from the reflection (bitter as it is) of
your former.--I have no doubt but you received my letter charged with
the heavy loss of your great, your noble, friendly benefactress and
patroness, the good Dutchess of Q----y: she entered into bliss, July
17, 1777, just two days after you sailed from Portsmouth.--I have now
to inform you, that his Grace followed her October 21st this year; just
fifteen months after his good Dutchess, full of years and honors: he is
gone to join his Dutchess, and share in the rewards of a righteous God,
who alone knew their merits, and alone could reward them.

Thus it has pleased God to take your props to himself;--teaching you a
lesson, at the same time, to depend upon an honest exertion of your own
industry--and humbly to trust in the Almighty.

You may safely conclude now, that you have not many friends in
England:--be it your study, with attention, kindness, humility, and
industry, to make friends where you are.--Industry, with good-nature
and honesty, is the road to wealth.--A wise œconomy--without avaricious
meanness, or dirty rapacity--will in a few years render you decently
independent.

I hope you cultivate the good-will and friendship of L----. He is a
jewel--prize him--love him--and place him next your heart;--he will
not flatter or fear you--so much the better--the fitter for your
friend:--he has a spirit of generosity--such are never ungrateful;--he
sent us a token of his affection, which we shall never forget.--Let
me counsel you, for your character’s sake, and as bound in honour,
the first money you can spare, to send over 20_l._ to discharge your
debt at Mr. P----’s the sadler:--it was borrowed money, you know.--As
for me, I am wholly at your service to the extent of my power;--but
whatever commissions you send over to me, send money, or I stir
none;--thou well knowest my poverty--but ’tis an honest poverty--and
I need not blush or conceal it.--You also are indebted to Mr. O----,
Bond-street:--what little things of that kind you can recollect, pay
as soon as you are able;--it will spunge out many evil traces of
things past from the hearts and heads of your enemies--create you
a better name--and pave the way for your return some years hence
into England with credit and reputation.--Before I conclude, let me,
as your true friend, recommend seriously to you to make yourself
acquainted with your Bible:--believe me, the more you study the word of
God, your peace and happiness will increase the more with it.--Fools
may deride you--and wanton youth throw out their frothy gibes;--but
as you are not to be a boy all your life--and I trust would not be
reckoned a fool--use your every endeavour to be a good man--and leave
the rest to God.--Your letters from the Cape, and one from Madeira,
I received; they were both good letters, and descriptions of things
and places.--I wish to have your description of the sort and town
of Madrass--country adjacent--people--manner of living--value of
money--religion--laws--animals--fashions--taste, &c. &c.--In short,
write any thing--every thing--and, above all, improve your mind with
good reading--converse with men of sense, rather than the fools
of fashion and riches--be humble to the rich--affable, open, and
good-natured to your equals--and compassionately kind to the poor.--I
have treated you freely in proof of my friendship.--Mrs. S----,
under the persuasion that you are really a good man, sends her best
wishes--when her handkerchief is washed, you will send it home--the
girls wish to be remembered to you, and all to friend L----n.

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXX.

TO MR. I----.


  Jan. 1, 1779.

IN compliance with custom, I beg leave to wish Mr. and Mrs. I----
happy years--many or few, as the Almighty shall think fit--but may
they be happy! As I wish it sincerely, their obligation is of course
the greater--and, to oblige them yet more, I will put it in their
power to oblige me, which they can do by lending me the volume of
Annual Registers (I think it is that of 1774) which has Goldsmith’s
Retaliation in it.--I hope Mr. and Mrs. I---- have no complaints but
the general one, extreme coldness of the weather, which though happily
extempted themselves from much suffering, by good fires and good cheer,
yet I am sure their sympathizing hearts feel for the poor.--I find upon
inquiring, that ten o’clock in the morning will best suit Mr. L----; I
will be in Privy Gardens just five minutes before Mr. and Mrs. I----
and Mr. Mortimer.--I hope Mrs. I---- will not pretend to repent--Sunday
is a lazy morning. If Mrs. I---- has not read Ganganelli, it is time
she should. I therefore take the liberty to send them--_them_, Mr.
I---- will say, is bad grammar--he is, madam, a good natured critic--I
address myself to you therefore, because my heart tells me you will be
a successful advocate for the blunders of a true Blackamoor.--I have
had the confidence to mark the passages that pleased me most in my
post-haste journey through the good Pontiff’s letters--and I shall be
vain, if Mrs. I---- should like the same passages, because it would
give a sanction to the profound judgement of her most obedient servant,

  I. SANCHO.


Note, The sixteenth letter, 1st verse, is a kind of stuff which would
almost turn me to the Romish--there is every thing in it which St. Paul
had in his heart.



LETTER LXXXI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, Jan. 1779.

    “Beyond the fix’d and settled rules
    “Of Vice and Virtue in the schools,
    “Beyond the letter of the Law,
    “Which keeps mere formalists in awe,
    “The better sort do set before ’em
    “A Grace--a manner--a decorum;
    “Something that gives their acts a light;
    “Makes ’em not only just--but bright,
    “And sets ’em in such open fame,
    “Which covers--_quality_--with shame.”

JUDICIOUSLY elegant Prior has befriended me--and described my honoured
friend Mr. S----. I wish I knew which way to shew my gratitude--the
only method I think of is to enjoy the benefits with a thankful heart,
and leave God in his own good time to reward you.

I should last night have gratefully acknowledged the receipt of your
letter and note--but I hoped for a frank--I am disappointed, and a long
delay would be unpardonable.--Be assured, dear Sir, I shall (with all
the alacrity of a heavy man) bestir myself in the execution of your
generous order.--I hope Mrs. S----, and every one of your family, enjoy
health and every good.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in respects and thanks to
Mrs. S---- and yourself.

  I remain, dear Sir,
  Your very obliged
  and faithful servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXII.

TO MR. F----.


  Jan. 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

I HAVE just received your favour of the 20th instant. As to the
letters in question; you know, Sir, they are not now mine, but the
property of the parties they are addressed to.--If you have had their
permission, and think that the simple effusions of a poor Negro’s heart
are worth mixing with better things, you have my free consent to do
as you please with them--though in truth there wants no increase of
books in the epistolary way, nor indeed in any way--except we could
add to the truly valuable names of Robertson--Beattie--and Mickle--new
Youngs--Richardsons--and Sternes.--Accept my best thanks for the very
kind opinion you are so obliging to entertain of me--which is too
pleasing (I fear) to add much to the humility of,

  Dear Sir,
  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXIII.

TO MRS. I----.


  Charles Street, Jan. 22, 1779.

  DEAR MADAM,

MY wife wishes to see Cymon--and my wishes (like a civil husband)
perfectly correspond with hers.--I had rather be obliged to you than
any good friend I have;--for I think you have an alacrity in doing
good-natured offices--and so I would tell the Q----n if she dared
dispute it: you are not so great indeed--but I am sure you are as
good--and I believe her to be as rich in goodness as she is high in
rank. If my request is within the limits of your power, you will
favour us with the order soon in the day. I have looked abroad for the
wonder you wished to be procured for you--but have met with nothing
likely hitherto.

  Yours most gratefully,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXIV.

TO MRS. H----.


  Charles Street, Feb. 9, 1779.

  DEAR MADAM,

I FELICITATE you in the first place--on the pleasing success of your
maternal care in restoring your worthy son to good health--he looks
now as well, fresh, and hearty, as love and friendship can wish
him.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in hearty thanks for your kind attention to
our well-doing--and your goodness in the very friendly order, which I
have endeavoured to execute with attention and honesty.--As to news,
there is none good stiring--trade is very dull--money scarce beyond
conception--fraud! perfidy! villainy! from the highest departments to
the lowest. The K--g, God bless him, is beset by friends, which he
ought to fear.--I believe he has one true friend only; and that is the
Q--n, who is the ornament and honour to the sex. Pray, dear Madam, make
my best respects to your good son and daughter, Mr. J----, and all I
have the honour to know; our best thanks and wishes attend Mr. H----
and yourself; and believe me

  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXV.

TO MR. G----.


  Feb. 1779.

  SIR

THE very handsome manner in which you have apologized for your
late lapse of behaviour does you credit.--Contrition--the child of
conviction--serves to prove the goodness of your heart--the man of
levity often errs--but it is the man of sense alone who can gracefully
acknowledge it.--I accept your apology--and, if in the manly heat of
wordy contest aught escaped my lips tinged with undue asperity, I ask
your pardon, and hope you will mutually exchange forgiveness with

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXVI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  March 9, 1779.

IT has given me much concern, dear Sir, the not having it in my power
to make my grateful acknowledgements sooner, for your very kind letter,
and friendly present which accompanied it.--My first thanks are due to
Heaven, who, for the example as well as service of mortals, now and
then blesses the world with a humane, generous Being.--My next thanks
are justly paid to you, who are pleased to rank me and mine in the
honourable class of those you wish to serve.--For these six past weeks,
our days have been clouded by the severe illness of a child, whom it
has pleased God to take from us: and a cowardly attack of the gout at
a time when every exertion was needful.--I have as yet but very little
use of my hand;--but I am thankful to have sufficient to exculpate me
from the vice of ingratitude--which my long silence might lay me under
the imputation of.--Mrs. Sancho begs me to express her sense of your
kindness; and joins me cordially in the most respectful sensations and
best wishes to Mrs. S---- and yourself. I am, dear Sir,

  (and with very great reason)
  Your much obliged
  humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXVII.

TO MR. S----.


  March 11, 1779.

  DEAR FRIEND,

I RECEIVED yours about three hours since.--I give you due credit
for your sympathizing feelings on our recent very distressful
situation--for thirty nights (save two) Mrs. Sancho had no cloaths
off;--but you know the woman. Nature never formed a tenderer
heart--take her for all in all--the mother--wife--friend--she does
credit to her sex--she has the rare felicity of possessing true virtue
without arrogance--softness without weakness--and dignity without
pride:--she is ----’s full sister, without his foibles--and, to my
inexpressible happiness, she is my wife, and truly best part, without a
single tinge of my defects--Poor Kitty! happy Kitty I should say, drew
her rich prize early--wish her joy! and joy to Mortimer! He left life’s
table (before he was cloyed or surfeited with dull sickly repetitions)
in prime of years, in the meridian of character as an artist, and
universally esteemed as a man:--he winged his rapid flight to those
celestial mansions--where Pope--Hogarth--Handel--Chatham--and Garrick,
are enjoying the full sweets of beatific vision--with the great
Artists--Worthies--and Poets of time without date.--Your father has
been exceeding kind--this very day a Mr. W----, of Retford, called on
me, a goodly-looking gentleman: he enquired after you with the anxious
curiosity of a friend;--told me your father was well, and, by his
account, thinks by much too well of me.--Friend H---- shall produce
the things you wot of--and brother O---- bring them in his hand: H----
is a very silly fellow--he likes silly folks; and, I believe, does
not hate Sancho.--To-morrow night I shall have a few friends to meet
brother O----; we intend to be merry:--were you here, you might add
to a number, which I think too many for our little room.--So I hear
that the ---- No, hang me! if I say a word about it.--Well, and how do
you like the company of Monsieur Le Gout? Shall I, in compliance with
vulgar custom, wish you joy? Pox on it, my hand aches so, I can scrawl
no longer.--Mrs. Sancho is but so, so;--the children are well.--Do
write large and intelligible when you write to me. I hate fine hands
and fine language;--write plain honest nonsense, like thy true friend,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER LXXXVIII.

TO MR. W----E.


  Charles Street, March 31, 1779.

YOU wish me to writ a consolatory letter to Mrs. W----e. My good
friend, what can I possibly write but your good sense must have
anticipated? The soul-endearing soothings of cordial love have the best
and strongest effects upon the grief-torn mind:--you have of course
told her that thanks are due, greatly so! to a merciful God, who might
have bereaved her of a child, instead of a worthy cousin;--or that she
ought to feel comfort--and to acknowledge divine mercy--that it was not
her husband:--that to lament the death of that amiable girl, is false
sorrow in the extreme:--why lament the great bliss and _choice prize_
of what we love?--what is it she has not gained by an early death?--You
will say--she was good--and will suppose that in the tender connexions
of wife--friend--and mother--she would have been an honoured and
esteemed example.--True, she might--and it is as true, she might have
been unhappily paired, ill-matched to some morose, ill-minded, uneven
bashaw;--she might have fell from affluence to want--from honour to
infamy--from innocence to guilt:--in short, we mistake too commonly the
objects of our grief;--the living demand our tears--the dead (if their
lives were virtuous) our gratulations;--in your case, all that can be
said is--earth has lost an opening sweet flower (which, had it lasted
longer, must of course soon fade)--and heaven has gained an angel,
which will bloom for ever--so let us hear no more of grief. We all must
follow.--No! let us rejoice, with your worthy friend Mrs. ----[9]. Joy
to the good couple! May they each find their respective wishes! May he
find the grateful acknowledgement of obliged and pleasing duty!--and
she, the substantial, fond, solid rewards due to a rectitude of
conduct, marked strongly with kindness and wisdom! And may you, my
friend!--but my leg aches--my foot swells--I can only say, my love to
the C--ds, and to poor Joe and Frank.--Read this to Mrs. W----e. My
silly reasoning may be too weak to reach her;--but, however, she may
smile at my absurdities;--if so, I shall have a comfort--as I ever wish
to give pleasure to her dear sex--and the pride of my heart is ever to
please one--alas!--and that one a wife.--So writes thy true friend,

  I. SANCHO.


Mr. W----e comes as far as P---- Gardens--but cannot reach Charles
Street.

_How’s that?_

I hear my scheme of taxation was inserted directly, and should be glad
to see the paper if easily got.

_Vanity._

[9] This union was remarkable for disparity of years; the bridegroom
    being 78, the bride in the bloom of youth.



LETTER LXXXIX.

TO MR. L----.


  May 4, 1779.

  MY DEAR CHILD,

I AM truly sorry to address this letter to you at this season in the
English Channel.--The time considered that you have left us, you ought
in all good reason to have been a seasoned Creole of St. Kitt’s;--but
we must have patience:--what cannot be cured, must be endured.--I dare
believe, you bear the cruel delay with resignation--and make the best
and truest use of your time, by steady reflection and writing.--I
would wish you to note down the occurrences of every day--to which
add your own observation of men and things--the more you habituate
yourself to minute investigation, the stronger you will make your
mind;--ever taking along with you in all your researches the word of
God--and the operations of his divine providence.--Remember, young
man--nothing happens by chance.--Let not the levity of frothy wit,
nor the absurdity of fools, break in upon your happier principles,
your dependence upon the Deity--address the Almighty with fervor,
with love and simplicity--carry his laws in your heart--and command
both worlds;--but I meant mere fatherly advice, and I have wrote a
sermon.--Dear boy, ’tis my love preaches; N---- begged me to write a
line for him, as he said you wanted news--I have none but what you
know as well as myself--such as the regard and best wishes of Mrs.
Sancho--the girls and myself--such as wishing a happy end to your
long-protracted voyage--and a joyful meeting with your worthy and
respectable family;--and in order to leave room for friend N----, I
here assure you I am your affectionate friend,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XC.

TO MR. R----.


  May, 1779.

  MY DEAR WORTHY R----,

YOUR letter was a real gratification to a something better principle
than pride--it pleased my self-love--there are very few (believe
me) whose regards or notice I care about--yourself, brother, and
O----, with about three more at most--form the whole of my _male_
connexions.--Your brother is not half so honest as I thought him--he
promises like a tradesman, but performs like a lord.--On Sunday
evening we expected him--the hearth was swept--the kettle boiled--the
girls were in print--and the marks of the folds in Mrs. Sancho’s
apron still visible--the clock past six--no Mr. R----. Now to tell
the whole truth, he did add a kind of clause, that in case nothing
material happened of hospital business, he would surely do himself
the--&c. &c. &c.--So, upon the whole, I am not quite clear that he
deserves censure--but that he disappointed us of a pleasure, I am
very certain.--You don’t say you have seen Mr. P----. I beg you will,
for I think he is the kind of soul congenial to your own.--Apropos,
the right hand side (almost the bottom) of Gray Street, there is a
Mrs. H----, an honest and very agreeable northern lady, whom I should
like you to know something of--which may easily be done--if you will
do me the credit just to knock at her door when you go that way--and
tell her, there is a Devil that has not forgot her civilities to
him--and would be glad to hear she was well and happy.--Mr. R----
called on me in the friendly style--when I say that, I mean in the
R---- manner--he asked a question--bought some tea--looked happy--and
left us pleased:--he has the Graces.--The gout seized me yesterday
morning--the second attempt--I looked rather black all day:--tell Mrs.
C----, I will lay any odds that she is either the handsomest or ugliest
woman in Bath--and among the many trinkets she means to bring with
her--tell her not to forget health.--May you all be enriched with that
blessing--wanting which, the good things of this world are trash!--You
can write tiresome letters! Alas! will you yield upon the recept of
this?--if not--that palm unquestionably belongs to your friend,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XCI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, June 16, 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

IN truth, I was never more puzzled in my life than at this present
writing--the acts of common kindness, or the effusions of mere
common-will, I should know what to reply to--but, by my conscience,
you act upon so grand a scale of urbanity, that a man should possess a
mind as noble, and a heart as ample, as yourself! before he attempts
even to be grateful upon paper.--You have made me richer than ever I
was in my life--till this day I thought a bottle of good wine a large
possession. Sir, I will enjoy your goodness with a glad heart--and
every deserving soul I meet with shall share a glass with me, and join
in drinking the generous donor’s health. Mrs. Sancho’s eyes betray her
feelings--she bids me think for her--which I do most sincerely, and for
myself,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XCII.

TO MRS. H----.


  June 17, 1779.

  DEAR MADAM,

YOUR son, who is a welcome visitor wherever he comes, made himself
more welcome to me by the kind proof of your regard he brought in his
hands.--Souls like yours, who delight in giving pleasure, enjoy a
heaven on earth; for I am convinced that the disposition of the mind
in a great measure forms either the heaven or hell in both worlds.--I
rejoice sincerely at the happiness of Mrs. W----, and may their
happiness increase with family and trade!--and may you both enjoy the
heartfelt delight of seeing your children’s children walking in the
track of grace!--I have, to my shame be it spoken, intended writing to
you for these twelve months past--but in truth I was deterred through
a fear of giving pain: our history has had little in it but cares and
anxieties--which (as it is the well-experienced lot of mortality) we
struggle with it, with religion on one hand, and hope on the other.

Mr. W----, whose looks and address bespeak a good heart and good sense,
called on me.--I will not say how much I was pleased--pray make my
kindest respects to your good partner, and tell him, I think I have
a right to trouble him with my musical nonsense.--I wish it better
for my own sake--bad as it is, I know he will not despise it, because
he has more good-nature:--I hear a good report of Mr. S----, and
that his humanity has received the thanks of a community in a public
manner.--May he! and you! and all I love, enjoy the blissful feelings
of large humanity!--There is a plaudit--as much superior to man’s as
heaven is above earth! Great God, in thy mercy and unbounded goodness,
grant that even I may rejoice through eternity with those I have
respected and esteemed here!--Mrs. Sancho joins me in love to yourself
and Mr. H----. Your son Jacob is the delight of my girls--whenever he
calls on us, the work is flung by, and the mouths all distended with
laughter: he is a vile romp with children.--I am, dear Madam, with true
esteem and respect,

  Your obliged servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XCIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 29, 1779.

A LITTLE fish--which was alive this morn--sets out this eve for
Bury--ambitious of presenting itself to Mrs. S----: if it should
come good, the Sancho’s will be happy;--in truth, Mr. S---- ought not
to be displeased--neither will he, I trust, if he considers it as it
really is--a grain of salt, in return for favors received of princely
magnitude, and deeply engraven in the hearts of his much obliged and
faithful servants,

  He and She +Sancho’s+.



LETTER XCIV.

TO MR. M----.


  August 1, 1779.
  Coat and Badge.

BRAVO! So you think you have given me the retort-courteous--I admit
it.--Go to! you are seedy, you are sly--true son, in the right direct
line, of old Gastpherious Sly.--Your letter to S--n makes ample amends
for your impudence in presuming to mount my hobby:--yes, I do affirm it
to be a good, yea, and a friendly letter.--The leading-string thought
is new, and almost poetic;--I watched him while he read it;--he read
it twice.--I judge he felt the force of your argumentation.--May he
avail himself of your friendly hints! and may you have the heart-felt
satisfaction of finding him a wiser being than heretofore! How doth
George’s mouth?--I honour you for your humane feelings--and much more
for your brotherly affection;--but do not Namby-Pamby with the manly
exertions of benevolence:--what I mean is--ah me! poor George--to be
sure ’tis well its no worse;--but the loss of a tooth and a scar are so
disfiguring!--Pooh, simpleton, if his heart is right, and God blesses
him with health--his exterior will ever be pleasing, in spight of the
gap in his gums, or scar above his chin. G---- is likely--the rogue has
a pleasing cherry phiz: neither so old nor so mouldy as some folks, not
having been rocked in the cradle of flattery--he has consequently more
modesty than his elders.--I could easily fill the sheet in contrasting
the merits of the two lads;--but then it would (I plainly foresee) turn
out so much to the advantage of Prince Jacky--that in mere charity I
forbear--and shall conclude with wishing both your heads to agree, as
well in good health, as in the many good qualities which I have not
time to enumerate.

Mrs. Sancho is pretty well--the girls and Billy well,--I am sometimes
better--sometimes so, so.--I should have answered you sooner; but
yesterday was obliged to write all day--though fast asleep the whole
time:--perhaps you will retort--that it is the case with me at this
present writing. False and scandalous! I declare I was never more
awake.--Remember me to Mr. S----, the ladies, and to thyself, if thou
knowest him.

  Farewell. Thine, &c. &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XCV.

TO MR. I----.


  August 3, 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

I MUCH wish to hear that Mrs. I---- is quite recovered--or in the best
possible way towards it. I have next to thank you for your princely
present--and to say I feel myself rich and happy in the splendid proofs
I have of your regard.

You love a pun almost as well as Dennis.--I shall contrive to be in
your debt as long as I live--and settle accounts hereafter--where, I
know no more than the Pope;--but you, Sterne, and Mortimer, are there,
sure I am, it will be the abode of the blest.--But to business--I am
commissioned to get as good an impression as possible of St. Paul
preaching to the Britons:--shall esteem it a fresh obligation, if you
will be kind enough to chuse one, and send by the bearer.--I return
faith for pudding--and Mr. Sharpe’s strictures upon Slavery;--the one
may amuse, if not edify--the other I think of consequence to every one
of humane feelings.--Do, pray, let me know how Mrs. I---- does;--with
thanks, respects; and why not friendship?

  I am dear Sir,
  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER XCVI.

TO MR. M----.


  August 14, 1779.

YOU kindly gave me liberty to bring Mrs. S----: the proposal did
honour to your heart--and credit to your judgement;--but an affair has
rendered that part of your invitation inadmissible,--Now pox take bad
quills--and bad pen-makers!--Sir, it was fifty pound to a bean-shell,
but that you had had a blot as big as both houses of parliament in the
very fairest, yea and handsomest, part of this epistle:--my pen, like
a drunkard, sucks up more liquor than it can carry, and so of course
disgorges it at random.--I will that ye observe the above simile to
be a good one--not the cleanliest in nature I own--but as pat to the
purpose as dram-drinking to a bawd--or oaths to a serjeant of the
guards--or--or--dullness to a Black-a-moor;--good--excessive good:--and
pray what--(oh, this confounded pen!)--what may your Worship’s chief
employ have been?--You have had your Devil’s dance--found yourself
in a lazy fit--the ink-stand, &c. staring you full in the face--you
yawned--stretched--and then condescended to scold me for omitting what
properly, and according to strict rule, you should have done yourself
a month ago.--Zounds!--God forgive us!----this thought oversets the
patience--coat and lining--of your right trusty friend,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER XCVII.

TO MR. M----.


  August 20 1779.

IN all doubtful cases, it is best to adhere to the side of least
difficulty.--Now whether you ought to have shewn the _politesses_ of
the _Ton_ in making enquiry after my Honour’s health and travels--or
whether my Honour should have anticipated all enquiry--by sending a
card of thanks for more than friendly civilities--is a very nice
point, which, for my part, I willingly leave to better casuists;--and
as I honestly feel myself the obliged party--so I put pen to paper as
a testimonial of the same.--I will suppose your head improved--I mean
physically: I will also hope your heart light--and all your combustible
passions under due subordination;--and then adding the fineness of the
morning--from these premises I will believe that my good friend is well
and happy.

I hope George effected his wish in town: if he has to do with people of
feeling--there is a something in his face which will command attention
and love--the boy is much handsomer than ever you were; and yet you
never look better than when you look on him:--would to God you were as
well settled!

The stage contained five good souls, and one huge mass of
flesh[10]:--they, God bless them, thought I took up too much room--and
I thought there was too little:--we looked at each other, like folks
dissatisfied with their company--and so jolted on in sullen silence
for the first half hour;--and had there been no ladies, the God or
Goddess of silence would have reigned the whole way:--for my part,
quoth I to myself, I have enjoyed true pleasure all day--the morning
was bright, refreshing, and pleasant; the delicious bowl of milk, the
fresh butter, sweet bread, cool room, and kind hostess--the friendly
converse, the walk--the animated flow of soul in I-- M----; the little
but elegant treat, high-seasoned with welcome.--Oh, Sancho, what more
could luxury covet, or ambition wish for? True, cries Reason--then be
thankful:--Hold! cries Avarice, with squinting eyes and rotten stumps
of teeth--hungry, though ever cramming;--it cost thee one shilling and
nine pence--one shilling and nine pence I say.--What of that, cries
Œconomy, we eat fairly half a crown’s worth.--Aye, cries Prudence,
that alters the case--od-so, we are nine pence in pocket, besides the
benefit of fresh air, fresh scenes, and the pleasure of the society
we love.--The sky was cloudless, and, to do me a particular favour,
the moon chose to be at full--and gave us all her splendor;--but our
envious mother Earth (to mortify our vanity) rose up--rolling the whole
way in clouds of dust.--Contention flew in at the coach-windows,
and took possession of both the females:--“Madam, if you persist in
drawing up the glass, we shall faint with heat.”--“Oh dear! very sorry
to offend your delicacy; but I shall be suffocated with dust--and my
cloaths--” “I have cloaths to spoil as well as other folks, &c. &c.
&c.” The males behaved wisely, and kept a stricter neutrality than the
French with the Americans.--I chewed the cud of sweet remembrance,
and, with a heart and mind in pretty easy plight, gained the castle of
peace and innocence about nine o’clock.--Well, Sir, and how do you find
yourself by this time?--I sweat, I protest--and then the bright God of
day darts his blessings full upon my shop-window--so intensely, that I
could fancy myself St. Bartholomew broiling upon a gridiron.

Oh! thou varlet--down--down upon thy knees, and bless thy indulgent
stars for the blessings--comforts--beauties, &c. of thy situation--the
Land of Canaan in possession milk and honey--shady trees--sweet walks
covered with the velvet of nature--pleasant views--cool house--and
the superintendency of the sweet girls--to whom my love and
blessings--and, sirrah! mark what I say, and obey me without reply:
there is a plump good-natured looking soul--I think you called her
Patty--my conscience tells me, that I owe her something more than
kind words and cool thanks!--therefore tell her, a man that notes
particularly the welcome of the eye--and saw plainly good-will and
good-nature in the expression of her honest countenance--sends her
a dish of tea--which she must sweeten by her cheery acceptance of
it--from one who knows not how to return the many, many obligations he
has received from the he’s and she’s of P---- house--exclusive of what
he owes--and shall be content ever to owe--the saucy rogue he addresses.

  Farewell. Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.

[10] Mr. Sancho was remarkable for corpulency.



LETTER XCVIII.

TO MRS. C----.


  Charles Street, Aug. 25, 1779.

  MA CHERE AMIE,

IN the visions of the night--Behold I fancied that Mrs. Sancho was
in Suffolk--that she saw strange places--fine sights--and good
people--that she was at B---- amongst those I love and honor--that she
was charmed and enraptured with some certain good folks who shall be
nameless--that she was treated, caressed, and well pleased--that she
came home full of feasts, kindness, and camps--and in the conclusion
dunned me for a whole month to return some certain people thanks--for
what?--why, for doing as they ever do--contrive to make time and place
agreeable--truly agreeable to those who are so lucky to fall in their
way: in truth, so much has been said, and description has ran so high,
that, now I am awake, I long for just such a week’s pleasure. But time
and chance are against me.--I awake to fears of invasion, to noise,
faction, drums, soldiers, and care:--the whole town has now but two
employments--the learning of French--and the exercise of arms--which is
highly political--in my poor opinion--for should the military fail of
success--which is not impossible--why, the ladies must take the field,
and scold them to their ships again.--The wits here say our fleet is
outlawed--others have advertised it--the republicans teem with abuse,
and the K--g’s friends are observed to have long faces--every body
looks wiser than common--the cheating shop-counter is deserted, from
the gossiping door-threshold--and every half-hour has its fresh swarm
of lies.--What’s to become of us? “We are ruined and sold!” is the
exclamation of every mouth--the monied man trembles for the funds--the
landholder for his acres--the married men for their families--old
maids--alas! and old fusty batchelors--for themselves. For my part,
I can be no poorer--I have no quarrel to the Romish religion--and
so that you come to town in health and spirits, and occupy the old
spot--so that the camp at Cavenham breaks not up to the prejudice
of Johnny O----, and my worthy R---- is continued clerk at ----: in
short, let those I love be uninjured in their fortunes, and unhurt in
their persons--God’s will be done! I rest perfectly satisfied, and very
sincerely and cordially,

  Dear Madam, Yours,
  and my sweet little Miss C----’s
  most obedient
  and obliged servant,

  I. SANCHO.


I should have said a deal about thanks and your kindness--but I am
not at all clear it would please you.--Mrs. Sancho certainly joins me
in every good wish--the girls are well--and William thrives--our best
respects attend Mr. B---- and his good Lady--Mr. and Mrs. S----. Adieu!

Pray make Mr. William Sancho’s and my compliments acceptable to
Nutts.--We hope he is well, and enjoys this fine weather unplagued by
flies, and unbitten by fleas.



LETTER XCIX.

TO MR. S----.


  August 31, 1779.

YOU have made ample amends for your stoical silence--insomuch
that, like Balaam, I am constrained to bless--where, peradventure,
I intended the reverse.--For hadst thou taken the wings of the
morning--and searched North, East, South, and West--or dived down
into the sea, exploring the treasures of old Ocean--thou could’st
neither in art or nature have found aught that could have made me
happier--gift-wise--than the sweet and highly finished portrait of my
dear Sterne. But how you found it--caught it--or came by it--Heaven and
you know best!--I do fear it is not thy own manufacturing.--Perhaps
thou hast gratified thy finer feeling at an expence which friendship
would blush for.--“But what have you to do with that?” True--it may
appear impertinent; but could aught add to the value of the affair--it
would be--its having you--for its father;--but I must hasten to a
conclusion.--I meant this--not as an epistle of cold thanks--but the
warm ebullitions of African sensibility.--Your gift would add to the
pride of Cæsar--were he living, and knew the merits of its original--it
has half turned the head of a Sancho--as this scrawl will certify.
Adieu! The hen and chicks desire to be remembered to you--as I do--to
all!--all!--all!

  I. S.



LETTER C.

TO MR. I----.


  Sept. 2, 1779.

IN truth I know myself to be a very troublesome fellow--but as it
is the general fate of good-nature to suffer through the folly they
countenance--I shall not either pity or apologize.--I have to beg you
just to examine my friend Laggarit’s petition: Mr. P---- does not seem
to approve of it, but is for expunging almost the best half.--My
friend has tried to get the great E---- B----’s opinion, but has
met with a negative--he being too busy to regard the distresses of
the lowly and unrecommended:--for my part, I have as much faith in
Mr. I----’s judgement as in ----, and a much higher opinion of his
good-will;--and as Mr. P---- may be partly hurried away by leaning
rather too much to republican modes, I dare say, if he finds that
your opinion coincides with the sense of the petition as it now
stands, he will not be offended at its being presented without his
mutilations.--Mr. Laggarit is fearful of offending any way, and has
every proper sense of Mr. P----’s zeal and good-will.--I dare say, it
will strike you as it does me--that in the petitionary style every term
of respect is necessary; and although some of the titles are rather
profane, and others farcical, yet custom authorizes the use, and it is
a folly to withstand it.

  Yours to command,

  I. SANCHO.


I hope Mrs. I---- is well as you would wish her.



LETTER CI.

TO MR. S----.


  Charles Street, Sept. 2, 1779.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

YOU can hardly imagine how impatient I was to hear how they behaved to
you at B--h. I must confess, you give a rare account of your travels.
I am pleased much with all the affair, excepting the cellar business,
which I fear you repented rather longer than I could wish.--I had
a letter from my honest L----n, who takes pride to himself in the
honour you did him, and says Mr. S---- pleases himself in the hope
of catching you on your return--when they flatter themselves the
pictures will merit a second review:--but beware of the cellar!--I
hope you are as well known at Scarborough as the Wells, and find more
employment than you want, and that you get into friendly chatty parties
for the evenings.--If I might obtrude my silly advice--it should be
to dissipate a little with the girls--but, for God’s sake, beware of
sentimental ladies! and likewise be on thy guard against the Gambling
Dames, who have their nightly petite-parties at quadrille--and, with
their shining faces and smooth tongues, drain unwary young men’s
pockets, and feminize their manners.--But why do I preach to thee, who
art abler to instruct grey hairs than I am to dust my shop?--Vanity,
which has gulled mighty statesmen, misled poor me; and for the sake of
appearing wiser than I am, I pray you, “set me down an ass!” I inclosed
a petulant billet to your Reverend Sire, which I hope he did not send
you.--There is no news worth talking about in town, excepting that it
rains frequently, and people of observation perceive that the days are
shorter.--Mrs. Sancho and children are all well--and, I dare swear,
wish you so; in which they are heartily seconded by

  Yours sincerely,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


How shall I know whether you get this scrawl, except you send me word?



LETTER CII.

TO MR. M----.


  Sept. 4, 1779.

THE _Lamb_[11] just now kindly delivered to the _Bear_[12] the
_Monkey’s_[13] letter.--I am glad at heart that the forced exercise did
thy hip no hurt--but that M-- of thine--I do not like such faces!--if
she is half what she looks, she is too good for any place but heaven,
where the hallelujahs are for ever chanting by such cherub-faced sluts
as she! Thank God! she is neither daughter nor sister of mine--I should
live in perpetual fear.--But why do I plague myself about her? She has
a protector in you--and foul befall the being (for no man would attempt
it) that wishes to injure her!--Mrs. D---- I could like so well, that
I wish to know but very little of her!--strange, but true!--and when
you have been disappointed in your schemes of domestic happiness, and
deceived in your too hasty-formed judgements to the age of fifty, as
oft as your friend, you will fully enter into any meaning.

She looks open--honest--intelligently sensible--good-natured--easy--polite
and kind;--knowledge enough of the world to render her company
desireable--and age just sufficient to form her opinions, and fix
her principles;--add to all this an agreeable face, good teeth, and
a certain _Je ne sai quoi_ (forgive the spelling, and do not betray
me):--but I say again, and again--when one has formed a great opinion
of either male or female, ’tis best, for that opinion’s sake, to look
no further--there, rogue!

I shall take no notice of the tricking fraudulent behaviour of the
driver of the stage--_as how_ he wanted to palm a bad shilling upon
us--and _as how_ they stopped us in the town, and most generously
insulted us--and _as how_ we took up a fat old man--his wife _fat_
too--and child;--and after keeping us half an hour in sweet converse
of the--of the _blasting_ kind--how that the fat woman waxed wrath
with her plump master, for his being serene--and how that he caught
choler at her friction, tongue-wise;--how he ventured his head out of
the coach-door, and swore liberally--whilst his ---- in direct line
with poor S----n’s nose--entertained him with _sound_ and sweetest of
exhalations.--I shall say nothing of being two hours almost on our
journey--neither do I remark that S----n turned sick before we left
G----, nor that the child p-- upon his legs:--in short, it was near
nine before we got into Charles Street.

Sir, the pleasures of the day made us more than amends for the nonsense
that followed.--Receipt in full.

  I. SANCHO.


My best respects to Mr. Y----; and my love, yea, cordial love to
Nancy:--tell her--no, if I live to see her again, I will tell her
myself.

Observe, we were seven in the coach;--the breath of the old lady, in
her heat of passion, was not rose-scented;--add to that, the warmth
naturally arising from crowd and anger--you will not wonder at S--t--’s
being sick--And he, S----, wanted to be in town rather sooner.--My
compliments to George.--Mr. L---- is so kind to promise to call for
this scrawl:--thank him for me, as well as for thyself.--Adieu.--Mrs.
S---- pretty well, the two Fanny’s and Kitty but indifferent.

[11] A Mr. Lamb.

[12] Meaning himself.

[13] Mr. M----, to whom he often gave that title.



LETTER CIII.

TO MRS. W----E.


  Charles Street, Sept. 5, 1779.

  DEAR MADAM,

YOUR wonder will be equal to your indignation--when--(after due
apologies for the liberty of this address--and a few good-natured
protestations of friendship and so forth--with an injunction to
strict secresy) I inform you that it is absolutely necessary for your
immediate setting out for Red-lion Court.--Your good man is only
running after all the young gypsies about the neighbourhood--all
colours--black or fair--are alike;--this is the effect of country
air--and your nursing.--The good man made his appearance on Thursday
evening last--the glow of health in his face--joy in his eyes.--“Wife,
Joe, and little Frank all well, and myself never better in my life;”--a
pretty girl he led by the hand--and, as if one petticoat plague was
not enough, he insisted upon taking away two of mine--and carried
his point against every reasonable odds: away they all went to the
play--and God only knows where else--I threatened him with a modest
report to Melchbourn, but he seemed to care very lightly about it;--so
I humbly advise, as your best method of taming him, either to insist
upon his speedily coming down to you--or else your immediate setting
out for home:--at present he only attempts our daughters--but, should
you be absent a month longer, I tremble for our wives;--for my part,
I have some reason, for here both wife and daughters are as fond of
Mr. W----e as they dare own--Seriously, I think, you should coax him
down, if only for a fortnight; for it is amazing how much better
he is for the short time he was absent--and this I take to be the
pleasantest and wholesomest time for the country, if the evening dews
are carefully guarded against--I shall advise him strongly to take the
other trip--and I trust your documents, with the innocent simplicity
of all around him--fine air--exercise--new milk--and the smell of new
hay--will make him ten thousand times worse than he is--you won’t like
him the worse for that. My love attends cousins I---- and F----.

  I am, dear Madam,
  most sincerely yours to command,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho joins me in every thing but the abuse of Mr. W----e.



LETTER CIV.

TO MR. R----.


  Sept. 7, 1779.

  DEAR FRIEND,

WE are all in the wrong--a _little_.--Admiral Barrington is arrived
from the West India station--and brings the pleasant news, that
d’Estaigne fell in with five of our ships of the line with the
best part of his fleet. We fought like Englishmen, unsupported by
the rest:--they fought till they were quite dismasted, and almost
wrecked;--and at last gave the French enough of it, and got away all,
though in plight bad enough:--but the consequence was, the immediate
capture of the Grenadas.--Add to this--Sir Charles Hardy is put into
Portsmouth, or Gosport;--and, although forty odd strong in line of
battle ships, is obliged to give up the sovereignty of the channel
to the enemy.--L--d S----h is gone to Portsmouth, to be a witness
of England’s disgrace--and his own shame.--In faith, my friend, the
present time is rather _comique_--Ireland almost in as true a state
of rebellion as America--Admirals quarrelling in the West-Indies--and
at home Admirals that do not chuse to fight--The British empire
mouldering away in the West, annihilated in the North--Gibraltar
going--and England fast asleep.--What says Mr. B---- to all this?--he
is a ministerialist,--for my part, it’s nothing to me, as I am only a
lodger, and hardly that.--Give my love and respect to the ladies--and
best compliments to all the gentlemen--with respects to Mr. and Mrs.
I----.

Give me a line to know how you all do.--The post is going--only time to
say God bless you.--I remain

  Yours affectionately,

  I. SANCHO.


Past eleven at night.



LETTER CV.

TO MISS. L----,


  Charles Street, Sept. 11, 1779.

I CANNOT forbear returning my dear Miss L---- our united thanks for her
generous present--which came exactly in time to grace poor Marianne’s
birth-day, which was yesterday:--the bird was good, and well dressed;
that and a large apple-pye feasted the whole family of the Sancho’s.
Miss L---- was toasted; and although we had neither ringing of
bells, nor firing of guns, yet the day was celebrated with mirth and
decency--and a degree of sincere joy and urbanity seldom to be seen on
R----l birth-days.--Mary, as queen of the day, invited two or three
young friends--her breast filled with delight unmixed with cares--her
heart danced in her eyes--and she looked the happy mortal.--Great God
of mercy and love! why, why, in a few fleeting years, are all the gay
day dreams of youthful innocence to vanish? why can we not purchase
prudence, decency, and wisdom, but at the expence of our peace? Slow
circumspect caution implies suspicion--and where suspicion dwells,
confidence dwells not.--I believe I write nonsense--but the dull
weather, added to a dull imagination, must, and I trust will, incline
you to excuse me:--if I mistake not, writing requires--what I could
tell you, but dare not--for I have smarted once already.--In short, I
write just what I think--and you know Congreve says somewhere, that

    “Thought precedes the will,”

and

    “Error lives ere Reason can be born.”

Now Will--Reason--and Gratitude, all three powerfully impel me to thank
you--not for your goose--nor for any pecuniary self-gratifying marks
of generosity--but for the benevolent urbanity of your nature--which
counsels your good heart to think of the lowly and less fortunate.--But
what are my thanks, what the echoed praises of the world, to the
heart-approving sensations of true charity!--which is but the prelude
to the divine address at the last day--“Well done, thou good,” &c.
&c--That you and all I love--and even poor me--may hear those joyful
words, is the prayer of

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CVI.

TO MR. I----.


  October 3, 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

YOU will make me happy by procuring me an order from Mr. H---- for
three, any night this week--’tis to oblige a worthy man who has more
wants than cash;--believe me, there is more of vanity than good-nature
in my request--for I have boasted of the honour of being countenanced
by Mr. I----, and shall ostentatiously produce your favor, as a proof
of your kindness, and my presumption:--thanks, over and over, for Sir
H---- Freeman’s letters, which I will send home in a day or two:--I
return the Sermons, which I like so well, that I have placed a new set
of them by Yorick’s, and think they will not disagree.--I pray you
to send by the bearer the bit of honored Mortimer you promised for
friend M----, who, though he called some few mornings since on purpose,
yet was so plagued with the _mauvaise hondt_ (I believe I spell it
Yorkshirely, but you know what I mean), that the youth could not for
his soul say what he was looking after:--if you accompany it with the
sea-piece you kindly offered me, I shall have employment in cleansing
and restoring beauties which have escaped your observation--and I shall
consider myself

  Your much more obliged,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CVII.

TO MR. M----.


  October 5, 1779.

YOU mistake--I am neither sick--idle--nor forgetful--nor hurried--nor
flurried--nor lame--nor am I of a fickle mutable disposition.--No!
I feel the life-sweetening affections--the swell of heart-animating
ardor--the zeal of honest friendship--and, what’s more, I feel it for
thee.--Now, Sir, what have you to say in humble vindication of your
hasty conclusions? what, because I did not write to you on Monday
last, but let a week pass without saying--what in truth I know not how
to say, though I am now seriously set about it? In short, such arts
and minds (if there be many such, so much the better), such beings I
say, as the one I am now scribbling to, should make elections of wide
different beings than Black-a-moors, for their friends:--the reason is
obvious;--from Othello to Sancho the big, we are either foolish, or
mulish--all, all without a single exception.--Tell me, I pray you--and
tell me truly--were there any Black-a-moors in the Ark?--Pooh! why
there now--I see you puzzled:--Well--well--be that as the learned shall
hereafter decide.--I will defend and maintain my opinion--simply--I
will do more--wager a crown upon it--nay, double that--and if my simple
testimony faileth, Mrs. Sancho and the children, five-deep, will
back me--that Noah, during his pilgrimage in the blessed Ark, never,
with wife and six children, set down to a feast upon a bit of finer
goodlier--fatter--sweeter salter--well-fed pork: we eat like hogs.

When do your nobles intend coming home?--The evenings get long, and the
damps of the Park after sun-set--but a word to the wise.

Oh! I had like to have almost forgot--I owe you a dressing for your
last letter.--There were some saucy strokes of pride in it--the
ebullitions of a high heart--and tenderly over-nice feelings.
Go-to--what have I found you? My mind is not rightly at ease--or
you should have it--and so you would not give me a line all the
week--because--but what? I am to blame--a man in liquor--a man
deprived of reason--and a man in love--should ever meet with pity and
indulgence:--in the last class art thou!--nay, never blush--plain as
the nose in thy face are the marks--refute it if you are able--dispute
if you dare--for I have proofs--yea, proofs as undeniable as is the
sincerity of the affection and zeal with which thou art ever regarded
by thy

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


How do the ladies--and Mr. M--? Mind, I care not about ----; so tell
her, and lye.--You may tell George the same story;--but I should like
to hear something about you all.



LETTER CVIII.

TO MR. M----.


  October 9, 1779.

MY friend Mr. I----, who--_like_ a simple fellow with a palish
phiz--crazy head--and hair of a pretty colour--an aukward loon--whom
I do sometimes care about--who has more wit than money--more good
sense than wit--more urbanity than sense--and more pride than some
princes--a chap who talks well--writes better--and means much better
than he either speaks or indites--a careless son of nature, who rides
without thinking--tumbles down without hurt--and gets up again without
swearing--who can--in short, he is such an excentric phizpoop--such
a vessel!--a new skin full of old wine is the best type of him--know
you such a one? No! I guessed as much--nay--nay--if you think for a
twelvemonth and a day, you will never be a jot the nearer--give it up,
man.--Come, I will solve the mystery--his name is ----. I will tell
you anon;--but as I was saying--for I hate prolixity--as I was saying
above--Mr. I---- (in imitation of the odd soul I have laboured to
describe) wishing to do me honour as well as pleasure--came in person
twice, to insist on my accompanying _he_ and _she_, and two more, to
see Mr. H---- take possession of the throne of Richard. Into the boxes
(I believe box is properer) we went--the house as full, just as it
could be, and no fuller--as hot as it was possible to bear--or rather
hotter.--Now do you really and truly conceive what I mean? Alas! there
are some stupid souls, formed of such phlegmatic, adverse materials,
that you might sooner strike conception into a flannel petticoat--or
out of one--(now keep your temper, I beg, sweet Sir) than convince
their simple craniums that six and seven makes thirteen.--It was a
daring undertaking--and H---- was rather awed with the idea of the
great man, whose very robes he was to wear--and whose throne he was to
usurp.--But give him his due--he acquitted himself well--tolerably
well;--he will play it much better next time--and the next better
still; Rome was not built in six weeks--and, trust me, a Garrick will
not be formed under seven years.--I supped with his Majesty and Mr. and
Mrs. I----, where good-nature and good-sense mixed itself with the most
chearful welcome.

And pray, how is your head by this time?--I will teach you to wish
for pleasure from Black-a-moor dunderheads:--why, Sir, it is a broken
sieve to a ragged pudding-bag, by the time you have gone through
this scrawl--you will be as flat, dull, and tedious, as a drunken
merry-andrew--or a methodist preacher--or a tired poor devil of a
post-horse; or, to sum up all in one word, as your most--what you
please,

  I. SANCHO.

  _Is pesorpher Quidois._

  Your true friend, and so forth.


Zounds, Sir! send me a good handsome epistle--such as you were wont to
do in peaceful days, before * * * had warped your faculties, and made
you lazy.--Why you--but I will not put myself in a passion.--Oh! my
M----, I would thou wert in town--but it’s no matter--I am convinced,
in our next habitation there will be no care--love will possess our
souls--and praise and harmony--and ever-fresh rays of knowledge,
wonder, and mutual communication will be our employ. Adieu.

The best of women--the girls--the boy--all well. I could really write
as long a letter on a taylor’s measure, as your last hurry-begotten
note.



LETTER CIX.

TO MR. M----.


  October 17, 1779.

NO! you have not the least grain of genius.--Alas! description is a
science--a man should in some measure be born with the knack of it.
Poor blundering M----, I pity thee: once more I tell thee--thou art
a bungler in every thing--ask the girls else.--You know nothing
of figures--you write a wretched hand--thou hast a nonsensical
style--almost as disagreeable as thy heart--thy heart, though better
than thy head--and which I wish from my soul (as it now is) was the
worst heart in the three kingdoms.--Thy heart is a silly one--a poor
cowardly heart--that would shrink at mere trifles--though there were no
danger of fine or imprisonment:--for example--come, confess now--could
you lie with the wife of your friend? could you debauch his sister?
could you defraud a poor creditor? could you by gambling rejoice in
the outwitting a novice of all his possessions?--No! why then thou
art a silly fellow, incumbered with three abominable inmates;--to
wit--Conscience--Honesty--and Good-nature--I hate thee (as the Jew
says) because thou art a Christian.

And what, in the name of common sense, impelled thee to torment
my soul, with thy creative pen-drawing of sweet A--r--bn--s? I
enjoyed content at least in the vortex of smoak and vice--and
lifted up my thoughts no higher than the beauties of the park
or----gardens.--What have I to do with rural deities? with
parterres--fields--groves--terraces--views--buildings--grots--
temples--slopes--bridges and meandering streams--cawing rooks--billing
turtles--happy swains--the harmony of the woodland shades--the
blissful constancy of rustic lovers?--Sir, I say you do wrong, to
awaken ideas of this sort:--besides, as I hinted largely above--you
have no talent--no language--no colouring--you do not groupe well--no
relief--false light and shadow--and then your prespective is so
false--no blending of tints--thou art a sad fellow, and there is an end
of it.

S----n, who loves fools (he writes to me) but mum; S----n wishes to
have the honour of a line from quondam friend M----: now M---- is an
ill-natured fellow, but were it contrariwise--and M---- would indulge
him--I would enclose it in a frank--with something clever of my own to
make it more agreeable.--Sirrah! refuse if you dare--I will so expose
thee--do it--’tis I command you:--S----n only intreats--you have need
of such a rough chap as Sancho to counterpoise the pleasures of your
earthly paradise.--Pray take care of your Eve--and now, my dear M----,
after all my abuse, let me conclude

  Yours affectionately,

  I. SANCHO.


  Postscript,

The tree of knowledge has yielded you fruit in ample abundance:--may
you boldly climb the tree of life--and gather the fruits of a happy
immortality--in which I would fain share, and have strong hope, through
the merits of a blessed Redeemer--to find room sufficient for self and
all I love--which, to say what I glory in, comprehend the whole race
of man--and why not Namby-Pamby M----? I cannot write to S----n till I
have your letter to enclose to him--if there is any delay, the fault is
not mine.



LETTER CX.

TO MR. R----.


  October 20, 1779.

ZOUNDS, Sir! would you believe--Ireland has the * * * to claim the
advantages of a free unlimited trade--or they will join in the
American dance!--What a pack of * * * are * * *! I think the wisest
thing administration can do (and I dare wager they will) is to stop the
exportation of potatoes--and repeal the act for the encouragement of
growing tobacco * * *. It is reported here (from excellent authority)
that the people at large surrounded the Irish parliament, and made the
members--the courtiers--the formists and non-cons--cats--culls--and
pimp-whiskins--all--all subscribe to their--. Well, but what says your
brother--no better news I much fear from that quarter.--Oh, this poor
ruined country!--ruined by its success--and the choicest blessings
the Great Father of Heaven could shower down upon us--ruined by
victories--arts--arms--and unbounded commerce--for pride accompanied
those blessings--and like a canker-worm has eaten into the heart of
our political body.--The Dutch have given up the Serapis and the
Scarborough, and detained Paul Jones twenty-four hours after their
sailing:--how they will balance accounts with France, I know not; but I
do believe the Mynheers will get into a scrape.

Tell Mr. B---- the Pyefleets fluctuate in price like the stocks,
and were done this morning at Billingsgate change, at 1_l._ 6_s._
8_d._ _per_ bushel; but I have sent them this evening properly
directed--also a book of _Cogniscenti dilitanti divertimenti_.--As for
the ladies, I cannot say any thing in justice to their merits or my
own feelings:--therefore I am silent--write soon--a decent, plain, and
intelligible letter--a letter that a body may read with pleasure and
improvement--none of your circumroundabouts for

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXI.

TO MR. R----.


  Nov. 1, 1779.

  DEAR FRIEND,

I SHOULD on Sunday night have acknowledged your kindness, but was
prevented by weakness!--idleness! or some such nonsense!--Were you
here, Mrs. Sancho would tell you I had quacked myself to death.--It
is true, I have been unwell--from colds and from a purging!--which
disorder prevails much in our righteous metropolis--and perhaps from
quacking; but of this when we meet.--I was much pleased with my
letter from Sir John--in which there is very little news--and less
hope of doing any thing to the purpose, either in the conquering or
conciliating mode, than in any letter I have been favoured with.--He
makes no mention of receiving any packets from me, and I have wrote
six or eight times within the last twelve months--so you see plainly
the packets are either lost, or his letters stopt.--I shall give him
a line by Wednesday’s post--and let it try its fortune.--I enclose
you some American congress notes--for he does not say he has sent you
any--though he mentions the news-papers.

We talk of sending over a vast force next spring. Why G--m--t will
so madly pursue a losing game, is amongst the number of things that
reason can never account for--and good sense blushes at:--it is
reported in the city, that our safety this summer was purchased of
d’Orvilliers and Monsieur Sartin:--it is certain (although a vote
of credit was granted for a million) that there is no money in the
Exchequer--and that the civil list is 800,000_l._ in arrears.--This
looks dark--whilst Ireland treats us rather laconic--Scotland not too
friendly--America speaks but too plainly:--But what a plague is all
this to you or me? I am doomed to difficulty and poverty for life--and
let things go as they will, if the French leave us Newmarket--they will
not ruin my friend.--I hope the good ladies are well and preparing
for London.--Squire S---- and his good woman well also, he in the
enjoyment of his gun--and she in the care of the sweet children.--My
best respects to Mr. and Mrs. B----, and I should be a beast to neglect
my worthy friend Mr. S----k. Now I have a scheme to propose to the
electors of Great Britain, to take Sir C---- and Mr. S---- for their
patterns--and at the general election (if they can find as many) to
return 300 such--it would immortalize them in the annals of this
country for their wisdom of choice--and what’s much better, it would
perhaps (with God’s blessing) save Old England. We want, alas!--only a
few honest men of sound principles and good plain understandings--to
unite us--to animate with one mind!--one heart!--one aim!--and to
direct the rouzed courage of a brave people properly--then we might
hope for golden times--and the latter end of the present reign emulate
the grand close of the last.

I got a very pretty young lady to chuse this inclosed ticket--meaning
to baffle ill-luck; for, had I chose it myself, I am certain a blank
would have been the consequence.--May it be prosperous!--Mrs. Sancho
joins me in every thing--love to O----; the girls giggle their respects
to Mr. R----; Billy joins in silence, but his love to Nutts is plain.
How does he do?

  Yours,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXII.

TO MR. S----.


  Nov. 14. 1779.

  DEAR FRIEND,

YOURS by my brother gave me money--and, what was more pleasing
to me, a tolerable account of your success--the lateness of the
season considered.--Come, brighten up; my brother P---- has left
us much happier than he found us.--We have succeeded beyond our
expectation--humility is the test of Christianity--and parent of
many if not of all the virtues;--but we will talk this over, when
you return from grape-stuffed geese and fine girls.--H---- seems to
be in better favour with her goddessship Lady-Fortune:--his affair
will do--he will stand a fair chance of rising.--I wish from my soul
something good in the same line was destined for you;--but have
courage--time and patience conquer all things.--I hope you will come
home soon--and leave a foundation for better fortune next year at
B----, and its friendly neighbourhood.--Kitty is very poorly--God’s
will be done!--I have a horrid story to tell you about the--Zounds! I
am interrupted.--Adieu! God keep you!

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho, and girls, and Billy, send their compliments, &c. and pray
all our respective loves and best wishes to the friendly circle at
B----, and every where else.



LETTER CXIII.

TO MR. S----.


  Nov. 16, 1779.

YOU have missed the truth by a mile--aye and more:--it was not
neglect--I am too proud for that;--it was not forgetfulness, Sir--I am
not so ungrateful;--it was not idleness, the excuse of fools;--nor
hurry of business, the refuge of knaves:--it is time to say what it
was.--Why, Mrs. D---- was in town from Tuesday to Monday following--and
then--and not till then--gave me your letter--and most graciously did
I receive it--considering that both my feet were in flannels, and are
so to this luckless minute.--Well, Sir, and what have you to say to
that? Friend H---- has paid for them.--I pay him again--and shall draw
upon you towards Christmas--never poorer since created--but ’tis a
general case;--blessed times for a poor Blacky grocer to hang or drown
in!--Received from your good reverend parent (why not honoured father?)
a letter, announcing the approach of a hamper of prog, which I wish
you was near enough to partake.--Your good father feels a satisfaction
in doing--I think a wrong thing--his motive is right--and, like a true
servant of Christ, he follows the spirit, not the letter:--he will be
justified in a better world--I am satisfied in this--and thou wilt
in thy feelings be gratified.--Huzza!--we are all right--but your
father pays the piper. How doth Squire G----? odso--and his pretty
daughter?--kiss the father for me--and drink a bottle with the fair
lady.--I mean as I have wrote--so tell them--and do what’s best in
thy own and their eyes.--When you see brother O----, my love to him
and his houshold.----I have no spirits when the gout seizes me--pox
on him!--Great news from Sir Charles Hardy--huzza for ever!--all
mad--nothing but illuminations;--out with your lights--bells ringing,
bonfires blazing--crackers bouncing--and all for what?--what?--The
girls open-mouthed--Billy stares--Mrs. Sancho rubs her hands;--the
night indeed is cold, but Billy must go to bed:--the noisy rogues with
the Gazette-extra stun our ears. Adieu!

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


I should have inclosed a paper, but it will cost the devil and all.--My
family all join in customary customs.



LETTER CXIV.

TO I---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, Nov. 21, 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

WE are happy to hear, by brother O----, that you and Mrs S---- enjoy
good health--may God preserve it, and increase your every comfort!

I am far from being sorry that you have not been in town this
Autumn;--for London has been sickly--almost every body full
of complaint; add also that the times are equally full of
disease.--Luxury! Folly! Disease! and Poverty! you may see daily riding
in the same coach--the doors ornamented with the honours of a virtuous
ancestry topped with coronets, surrounded with mantle ermined;--and,
alas! Corruption for the supporters.

Now, my good Sir, you can have no real pleasure but what must arise
from your own heart, were you amongst us--and that would be in pitying
our weakness, and sighing over distresses your benevolence of heart
could not alleviate!--and yet I fear--if you keep from town till times
mend--I shall have no chance of seeing you this side eternity.--You
should come up for a day or two, were it only to be witness to the
roguery of M----rs and lottery-office-keepers--and the madness of
the dupes of each.--I have much to thank you for--which I will not
forget in a better world, if I see you not in this.--We have eat your
turkey to-day;--it is a joke to say it was good--bad things seldom,
if ever, come from Mr. S----. Mrs. Sancho joins me in thanks to Mrs.
S----, who we hope will not be always unknown.--The customary wishes
of the approaching sacred season to you and all your connexions.--Pray
excuse blunders; for I am forced to write post, as I expect O----
every moment. As I write first, and think afterwards, my epistles are
commonly in the Irish fashion. You, who prefer the heart to the head,
will overlook the error of the man who is, and ever will be, very
sincerely and gratefully,

  Your much obliged
  friend and servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.


It is expected the whole M----y will run from their posts before Friday
next, L--d S--h and Lord N--h excepted: Now, I have a respect for L--d
N--h: he is a good husband! father, friend, and master--a real _good
man_--but, I fear, a bad _m----r_.



LETTER CXV.

TO THE REV. MR. S----.


  Dec. 5, 1779.

  REV. AND HON. SIR,

I HAVE just now received your too valuable favor:--forgive me, good
Sir, if I own I felt hurt at the idea of the trouble and cost you
(from a spirit too generous) have been put to--and for what, my good
Sir? Your son shewed me many kindnesses--and his merits are such as
will spontaneously create him the esteem of those who have the pleasure
of knowing him--it is honouring me to suppose I could be of service to
him.--Accept then, good Sir, of my thanks, and Mrs. Sancho’s--and be
assured you have sevenfold overpaid any common kindness I could render
your deserving son and my friend.--I wish he was here to partake of
your bountiful treat--for well do I know his filial heart would exult,
and his eyes beam with love and respect.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in
respectful acknowledgements and thanks to Mrs. S---- and self.

  We are, dear Sir,
  Your most obliged servants,

  +IGN.+ and +A. SANCHO+.



LETTER CXVI.

TO MR. S----.


  Dec. 14, 1779.

  SIR,

I EXPECT an answer.

  Yours,

  I. S.


Our friend H----’s head and heart are fully occupied with schemes,
plans, resolves, &c. &c. in which (to his immortal honour) the
weal and welfare of his S---- are constantly considered:--the
proposal which accompanies this letter, from what little judgement
I have, I think promises fair.--You will, however, give it a fair
examination--and of course determine from the conviction of right
reason.--If, as a friend, I might presume to offer my weak opinion--I
freely say, I think in every light it seems eligible. The circle of
your acquaintance is at present circumscribed--I mean in the artist
line:--now in case you connect yourself in a business which requires
constant daily perambulation--the chances are on your side for forming
acquaintance--perhaps friendships--with men of genius and abilities,
which may happily change the colour of your fortunes--the old proverb
is on your side--“two heads,” &c.--and very fortunately in your
case, where in fact one has _wit_, and the other _judgement_,--the
_chair_ of _interest_ will have its compleat furniture in the two top
ornaments--and _honesty_ for its _basis_. So much for Mons. H----,
and now I have to reckon with you. How could you be so preposterously
wrong, to trouble the repose of your worthy father and mother about
me? Surely you must think me exceedingly interested--or your heart
must be a very proud one; if either--in the first instance you did me
a wrong--in the last, perhaps, I may wrong you;--be it as it may--I
know it gave me real vexation.--Your father sent such a basket, as
ten times repaid the trifling service I had the honour as well as
pleasure in rendering a man of merit, and my friend;--believe me, I
never accepted any present with so ill a will;--with regard to them,
every thankful acknowledgement was due.--I wrote a very embarrassed
letter of thanks--with a resolution to give you a chastisement for
laying me under the necessity.--I hear with pleasure that you have
enough to do. H---- declares he is sorry for it--as he wants and
wishes you in town. Pray give my best wishes to Mess. B---- and
S----w, and my love to O----. If you should happen to know a Miss
A----, a rich farmer’s daughter, remember me to her--were you not
widow-witched, she or some other heavy-pursed lass might be easily
attainable to a man of your--aye, aye, but that, says ----, will not
be, I fear.--For I verily believe, that * * * * * for the * * * * and
by the same token do you not * * * * * * *? But this is matter of mere
speculation.--God bless you! Yours sincerely--cordially--and sometimes
offensively--but always friendly,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXVII.

TO D---- B----E, ESQ.


  Dec. 17, 1779.

  GOOD SIR,

A STRANGER to your person (not to your virtues) addresses you--will
you pardon the interested intrusion? I am told, you delight in doing
good.--Mr. W----e (who honours me with his friendships, by whose
persuasion I presume to trouble you) declares--you are no respecter of
country or colours--and encourages me further--by saying, that I am so
happy (by the good offices of his too partial friendship) to have the
interest and good wishes of Mr. B----.

Could my wish be possibly effected to have the honour of a General
post-office settled in my house, it would certainly be a great
good--as (I am informed) it would emancipate me from the fear of
serving the parish offices, for which I am utterly unqualified
through infirmities--as well as complexion--Figure to yourself,
my dear Sir, a man of a convexity of belly exceeding Falstaff--and
a black face into the bargain--waddling in the van of poor thieves
and pennyless prostitutes--with all the supercilious mock dignity of
little office--what a banquet for wicked jest and wanton wit--as,
_Needs must_, _when_, &c. &c.--Add to this, my good Sir, the chances of
being summoned out at midnight in the severity of easterly winds and
frosty weather--subject as I unfortunately am to gout six months in
twelve--the consequence of which must be death:--death! now I had much
rather live--and not die--live indebted to the kindness of a few great
and good--in which glorious class, you, dear Sir, have the pre-eminence
in the idea of

  Your most respectful
  and obliged humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXVIII.

TO MR. B----.


  Charles Street, Dec. 20, 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

THE Park guns are now firing, and never was poor devil so puzzled
as your humble Sancho is at this present moment.--I have a budget
of fresh news--aye, and that of consequence--and a million of stale
thanks, which perhaps you will think of no consequence.--Impelled
by two contrary passions, how should a poor Negro know precisely
which to obey? Your turkey and chine are absolutely as good, as
fine, and as welcome--as nobly given--and as gratefully accepted--as
heart can wish, or fancy conceive:--then on the other hand--the news
is as glorious--as well timed and authenticated--as pleasing,--as
salutary in the ministerial way--as much wanted--and as welcome--as
the turkey and chine to a certain sett, I mean--of king’s friends and
national * * * * *. The said turkey and chine will keep fresh and
good--and chear some honest hearts (I trust) on Christmas-day.--The
news, good as it is, may half of it prove false by Christmas--and the
true part will be stale news by that time--much of it will be liable
to doubt and malicious disquisition:--now, on the other hand, the
turkey and its honest fat companion are bettering every day--and feast
us by anticipation.--But again, the news will come with a handsome
face--attested by a Gazette extraordinary, garnished by the happy
flourishes of news-paper invention. Then there is the speech of the
noble Sir C----; I meant to say much upon that score; you have read
it without doubt--so have I more than once or twice--and I find the
same fault with it that the majority and minority do--which is neither
more nor less than what’s exceeding natural to both parties.--The
majority detest it for its truth--the minority would have better liked
it, had it not been so d--n’d _honest_. Now (between ourselves) I do
confess to you, my worthy friend, strip this famed speech of its truth
and honesty, there will very little worth notice remain, excepting
candour, a spice of benevolence, and perhaps too much charity;--but
as the above are the vices only of a very few, we may the better
endure it in Sir C----. There is certainly an express arrived this
day with very comfortable news--plenty of killed and wounded--plenty
of prisoners--and (as it always happens) with little or no loss on
our side;--but, dear me! how I have run on!--I protest, the sole
business of this letter was to ease my mind--by unburthening my head
and heart of some weighty thanks, which, for aught I know, except
very decently managed, are more likely to give pain than pleasure to
some odd-constructed minds, men who fatten upon doing good, and feel
themselves richer in proportion to their kindness:--such beings are the
S----’s, the B----s, the R----hs, O----ns, &c. &c.--whom God mend--in
the next world I mean:--so, wishing you every felicity in this, and
every comfort attendant on the approaching festival, with love and
good-will to all friends, especially to Mrs. B----n, the worthy Mr.
S----’s family, Squire S----ns, and his mate, in which Mrs. Sancho
claims her full share, I remain, dear Sir, (I fear I tire you)

  Your most obliged
  humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXIX.

TO MR. B----.


  Dec. 24, 1779.

LOSERS have the privilege to rail--I was taking the benefit of the act
upon my seeing Johnny O----, when he abruptly (and not disagreeably)
stopped my mouth--with saying, he had just loaded a stout lad--in the
name of Mr. B----, and dispatched him to Charles Street:--now this
same spirit of reparation may suit well with both the in and out side
of Mr. B----; and those who know the man will not marvel at the deed.
For my own part, I have been long convinced of the blindness, and more
than Egyptian stubbornness, of repiners of every sect.--For how can
we say but that seeming evils in the seed, with the cultivation of
benevolence--mark that--may yield an abundant crop of real substantial
good?--The confounded lurches, and four by honours, trimmed me of ten
pieces:--Ten pieces; quoth I as I was preparing for bed--better been
at home:--Ten pieces! quoth Prudence, you had no business to play:--So
much good money flung away! cries Avarice.--Avarice is a lying old
grub--I have pork worth twice the money--and the friendly wishes of
a being who looks hospitality and good-will.--The blessings of the
season attend you!--May you have the pleasure and exercise of finding
out want, and relieving it! and may you feel more pleasure than the
benefited!--which I believe is mostly the case in souls of a kind,
generous, enlarged structure.--My respects attend the gun and dog of
Squire S----, which, being the things of most consequence, I name
before Mrs. S---- or himself.--They and every one connected with B----
house have my best wishes--and you, my good Sir, the thanks of

  Your most humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXX.

TO MRS. M----.


  Christmas-day, 1779.

MAY this blest season bring every pleasure with it to my kind and
worthy Mrs. M----! and may the coming year bless the good and happy man
of her heart with the possession of her person! and may every future
one, for a long period of time, bring an increase to her joys and
comforts!--So pray the Sancho’s--and all join in thanks to Mrs. M----
for her friendly present.--Will Mrs. M---- be so kind to say all that’s
civil and thankful to Mrs. W----e, for her kindness in sending me a
bottle of snuff?--and also make my respectful compliments to Mr. L----?
God keep you all!

  Yours I remain, much
  obliged and thankful,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXI.

TO MR. W----E.


  Dec. 26, 1779.

IT is needless, my dear Sir, to say how pleasingly the news of your
great good fortune affected us:--for my part, I declare (self excepted)
I do not know, in the whole circle of human beings, two people whom
I would sooner wish to have got it;--neither, in my poor judgement,
could it have fallen with a probability of being better used in any
other hands. The blessings of decent competency you have been used to
from early childhood:--your minds have been well cultivated--virtuous
and prudent in your conduct, you have enjoyed the only true riches (a
good name) long;--your power of doing good will certainly be amply
increased; but, as to real wealth, I will maintain it, you were as rich
before.--You must now expect a decent share of envy;--for, as every one
thinks pretty handsomely of self, most of the unfortunate adventurers
of your acquaintance will be apt to think how much pleasanter it would
have been to have had twenty thousand pounds to themselves.--Avarice
will groan over his full bags, and cry, “Well, I never had any luck!”
Vanity will exclaim, “It is better to be born lucky than rich!” Whilst
Content, sheltered in her homely hovel, will cry, “Blessing on their
good hearts! aye, I knew their good parents;--they were eyes to the
blind, and feet to the lame, and made the orphan’s and the widow’s
hearts sing for joy; God will prosper the family.”--But, while I am
prating away, I neglect to thank you, which was the chief business
of this letter--to thank you, and to admire that rectitude of temper
which could, in the full tide of worldly good fortune, remember the
obscure, the humble old friend.--Accept my thanks, and the plaudit also
of a heart too proud to court opulence--but alive to the feelings of
truth, sacred friendship, and humanity.--Mine and Mrs. Sancho’s thanks
for your genteel present attend you, Mrs. W----, and the worthy circle
round!--May every year be productive of new happiness in the fullest
sense of true wisdom, the riches of the heart and mind!--So wishes thy
obliged sincere friend,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXII.

TO D. B----E, ESQ.


  Dec. 30, 1779.

  HONOURED SIR,

PERMIT me to thank you--which I do most sincerely--for the kindness
and good-will you are pleased to honour me with.--Believe me, dear
Sir, I was better pleased with the gracious and soothing manner of
your refusal--than I have been in former times with obligations less
graciously conferred.--I should regret the trouble I have given
you--but that my heart feels a comfort, and my pride a gratification,
from the reflection, that I am cared for--and not unnoticed--by a
gentleman of the first worth and highest character. I am dear Sir, with
profound respect and gratitude,

  Your most obliged
  and humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXIII.

TO MR. I----.


  Dec. 1779.

  DEAR SIR,

THE bearer of this letter gives himself a very good report--he
is certainly the best judge--he can cook upon occasion--dress
and shave--handle a salver with address--and clean it too:--he
is but little in make--and I hope not great in opinion:--examine
his morals--if you can see through so opaque a composition as a
Bengalian.--Was he an African--but it’s no matter, he can’t help the
place of his nativity!--I would have waited upon the worthy circle
yesterday; but the day was so unfriendly, I had not the heart to quit
the fire-side.--I hope you and Mrs. I---- have as much health and
spirits as you can manage.--I have had a pretty smart engagement with
the gout, of which I can give a better account than Sir Charles Hardy
can of the combined fleet.--I wish to place you, Sir, in the Censor’s
chair--for the which purpose, I most pressingly beg the favor of your
company to-morrow, Friday the 19th, in the afternoon--to meet a young
unfledged genius of the first water--who, as well as myself, is fool
enough to believe you possess as much true taste as true worth:--be
that as God pleases--if you delight to do me honor, comply with this
request, and imagine Sterne would have done as much for

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXIV.

TO MR. R----.


  Last Day, 1779.

  DEAR FRIEND,

I WISH I could tell you how much pleasure I felt in the reading your
chearful letter--I felt that you was in good health, and in a flow
of chearfulness, which pray God continue to you!----I shall fancy
myself amongst you about the time you will get this--I paint in my
imagination the winning smiles, and courteously kind welcome, in the
face of a certain lady, whom I cannot help caring for with the decent
pleasing demure countenance of the little C---- Squire B----, with
the jovial expression of countenance our old British freeholders were
wont to wear--the head and heart of Addison’s Sir Roger de Coverley;
S---- tipsy with good will, his eyes dancing in his head, considering
within his breast every species of welcome to do honor to his noble
master, and credit to the night; and, lastly, my friend looking more
kindness than his tongue can utter and present to every individual,
in offices of love and respect. My R----, what would I give to
steal in unseen--and be a happy spectator of the good old English
hospitality--kept up by so few--and which in former times gave such
strength and consequence to the ancestry of the present frivolous race
of Apostates!--Honoured and blest be Sir C---- and his memory, for
being one of those golden characters that can find true happiness in
giving pleasure to his tenants, neighbours, and domestics!--where-ever
such a being moves--the eyes of love and gratitude follow after
him--and infant tongues, joining the voice of youth and maturer years,
fill up the grand chorus of his praise.--I inclose without apology
a billet for ----: he well knows how prone I naturally am to love
him;--but love is untractable, there is no forcing affections--but
I, perhaps, too quickly feel coldness. ---- has a noble soul--and he
has his foibles;--for me, I fling no stone--I dare not; for, of all
created beings, I know none so truly culpable, so full of faults, as is
your very sincere friend and obliged servant,

  I. SANCHO.


As we commonly wish well to ourselves, you may believe that we
cordially join in wishing every good, either in health, wealth,
or honour, to the noble owner of B---- Hall; to the thrice dearly
respected--guess who!--to you and all--and all and you. Billy loves
flesh--Kitty is a termagant--Betsy talks as usual--the Fanny’s work
pretty hard. Adieu! I conclude 1779 with the harmony of love and
friendship.



LETTER CXXV.

TO ---- MR. S----.


  1780, January the 4th day.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

YOU have here a kind of medley, a heterogeneous, ill-spelt, heteroclite
(worse) excentric sort of a--a--; in short, it is a true Negroe
calibash--of ill-sorted, undigested chaotic matter. What an excellent
proem! what a delightful sample of the grand absurd!--Sir--dear
Sir--as I have a soul to be saved (and why I should not, would puzzle
a Dr. Price), as I have a soul to be saved, I only meant to say about
fifteen words to you--and the substance just this--to wish you a happy
New-year--with the usual appendages--and a long et cætera of cardinal
and heavenly blessings:--à propos, blessings--never more scanty--all
beggars by Jove--not a shilling to be got in London;--if you are better
off in the country, and can afford to remit me your little bill, I
inclose it for that good end. H---- is--but he can better tell you
himself what he is; for in truth I do think he is in love: which puts
the pretty G---- into my head--and she brings her father in view.--My
love and respects to each.--Mrs. Sancho joins me; and the girls,
her--and God keep you!

  Yours sincerely,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXVI.

TO MR. J---- W----E.


  Charles Street, Jan. 5, 1780.

  DEAR W----E,

WERE I as rich in worldly commodity as in hearty will--I would thank
you most princely for your very welcome and agreeable letter;--but,
were it so, I should not proportion my gratitude to your wants;--for,
blessed be the God of thy hope!--thou wantest nothing--more
than--what’s in thy possession--or in thy power to possess:--I would
neither give thee _Money_--nor _Territory_--_Women_--nor _Horses_--nor
_Camels_--nor the height of Asiatic pride--_Elephants_;--I would give
thee _Books_--

    “_Books_, fair Virtue’s advocates and friends;”

but you have books plenty--more than you have time to digest:--after
much writing--which is fatiguing enough--and under the lassitude
occasioned by fatigue, and not sin--the cool recess--the loved
_book_--the sweet pleasures of imagination poetically worked up
into delightful enthusiasm--richer than all your fruits--your
spices--your dancing-girls--and the whole detail of Eastern, effeminate
foppery--flimsy splendour--and glittering magnificence;--so thou
thinkest--and I rejoice with thee and for thee. Shall I say what my
heart suggests? No, you will feel it praise--and call it flattery.
Shall I say, Your worthy parent read your filial letter to me--and
embalmed the grateful tribute of a virtuous son with his precious
tears?--Will you believe?--he was for some minutes speechless through
joy!--Imagine you see us--our heads close together--comparing
notes;--imagine you hear the honest plaudits of love and friendship
sounding in thy ears;--’tis glory to be proud on such occasions--’tis
the pride of merit:--and as you allow me to counsel you with freedom--I
do strongly advise you to love praise--to court praise--to win it
by every honest, laudable exertion--and be oft, very often jealous
of it:--examine the source it proceeds from--and encourage and
cherish it accordingly.--Fear not--mankind are not too lavish of
it--censure is dealt out by wholesale--while praise is very sparingly
distributed:--nine times in ten mankind may err in their blame--but in
its praises the world is seldom, if ever, mistaken.--Mark--I praise
thee _sincerely_, for the _whole_ and every _part_ of thy _conduct_
in regard to my two sable brethren[14]. I was an ass--or else I might
have judged from the national antipathy and prejudice through custom
even of the Gentoos towards their woolly-headed brethren, and the
well-known dignity of my Lords the Whites, of the impropriety of my
request.--I therefore not only acquit thee honourably--but condemn
myself for giving thee the trouble to explain a right conduct.--I fear
you will hardly make out this scrawl, although it is written with a
pen of thy father’s--a present mended from a parcel of old quills by
his foreman, or brother C----d.--Your honest brother Joseph came post
with your letters--good-will shining in his face--joy in his innocent
eyes:--he promises to be as much a W---- as his Indian brother:--you
flatter my vanity in supposing my friendship of any utility to Joe;--he
has in his good father Moses and the Prophets--which you have had,
and availed yourself well of the blessing--and I trust Joe will do
the same--besides having precept and example from a worthy and loving
brother.--Poor M----, your favourite--I scarce knew her;--she was
as pure within, as amiable without:--she enriches the circle of the
blest--and you have a friend in heaven.

I hope you sometimes--aye often--consult with Dr. Young’s Night
Thoughts--carry him in your pockets--court him--quote him--delight
in him--make him your own--and laugh at the wit, and wisdom, and
fashion of the world:--that book, well studied, will make you know
the value of death--and open your eyes to the snares of life; its
precepts will exalt the festive hour, brighten and bless the gloom of
solitude, comfort thy heart, and smooth thy pillow in sickness, and
gild with lustre thy prosperity--disarm death itself of its terrors,
and sweetly soften the hour of dissolution.--I recommend to all young
people, who do me the honour to ask my opinion--I recommend, if their
stomachs are strong enough for such intellectual food, Dr. Young’s
Night Thoughts--the Paradise Lost--and the Seasons;--which, with
Nelson’s Feasts and Fasts, a Bible and Prayer-book, used for twenty
years to make my travelling library--and I do think it a very rich one.
I never trouble my very distant friends with articles of news--the
public prints do it so much better--and then they may answer for their
untruths;--for among the multitude of our public prints, it is hard to
say which lyes most.

Your enclosed trust was directly delivered to the fair hands it was
addressed to:--I have the authority to say, it gave great pleasure to
both the ladies and your friend Mr. R----, who wears the same cordial
friendly heart in his breast as when you first knew him.--Your friend
Mr. John R---- is still at New York with the guards--where he is very
deservedly honoured, loved, and esteemed:--he corresponds with his
old acquaintance--and does me the honour to remember me amongst his
friends:--our toast in P. Gardens is often the three Johns--R----,
W----e, and O----, an honest--therefore a noble triumvirate.

I feel old age insensibly stealing on me--and, alas! am obliged to
borrow the aid of spectacles, for any kind of small print:--Time keeps
pacing on, and we delude ourselves with the hope of reaching first this
stage, and then the next; till that ravenous rogue Death puts a final
end to our folly.

All this is true--and yet I please and flatter myself with the hope
of living to see you in your native country--with every comfort
possessed--crowned with the honest man’s best ambition, a fair
character.--May your worthy, your respectable parents, relations, and
friends, enjoy that pleasure! and that you may realize every fond hope
of all who love you, is the wish of

  Your sincere friend,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


  Postscript.

This letter is of a decent length--I expect a return with
interest.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in good wishes, love, and compliments.

[14] Mr. W----e having wrote word, that if any European in India
    associated with those of that complexion, it would be considered as
    a degradation, and would be an obstacle to his future preferment;
    he laments, in very strong terms the cruelty of such an opinion;
    hopes not to forfeit Mr. Sancho’s good opinion from being compelled
    to comply with the custom of the country, with repeated assurances
    of serving them, if in his power, though he must remain unknown to
    them.



LETTER CXXVII.

TO MR. S----.


  Charles Street, Jan. 11, 1780.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

MR. R---- faithfully discharged his commission--paid me the
desirable--and intrusted me with ten guineas, to pay on demand; and
here he comes, faith--as fresh as May, and warm as friendly zeal can
make mortality--to demand the two letters, which he will deliver
himself, for his own satisfaction.--I wish from my soul, that
Chancellors--Secretaries of State--Kings--aye--and Bishops--were as
fond of doing kind things--but they are of a higher order.--Friend
R---- is only a Christian.--I give you credit for your promises of
reformation in the epistolary way--and very glad am I to hear of your
success.--Know your own worth--honour yourself, not with supercilious
pride, but with the decent confidence of your own true native
merit--and you must succeed in almost any thing you chuse to undertake:
so thinks Sancho.--As to what you request me to do by way of inspecting
your goods and chattels in your late lodging--I must beg to decline
it--as I feel it aukward, to insinuate the least deficiency in point of
attention to your interests in such a heart as H--s; a heart which, to
my knowledge, feels every sentiment of divine friendship for you; an
heart, animated with the strongest zeal and flowing ardor to serve you,
to love you.

The kindness of you and your two friends exceedingly embarrasses
me.--I would not wish to appear to any one either arrogant, vain,
or conceited;--no--nor servile, mean, or selfish:--I grant your
motive is friendly in the extreme--and those of your companions as
nobly generous;--but--but what?--Why this--and the truth--were I
rich, I would accept it, and say “Thank ye,” when I chose it;--as
I am poor, I do not chuse to say “Thank ye”--but to those I know
and respect. You must forgive me--and call it the error of African
false principle--call it any thing but coldness and unfeeling
pride, which is in fact ingratitude in a birth-day suit.--As to
the grand Turk of Norfolk, if it comes--we will devour it--and
toast Don S---- and the unknown giver.--Thou, my S----, hast
(oh! prostrate, and thank the Giver) a noble and friendly heart,
susceptible of the best, the greatest feelings. H---- is thy
twin-brother--perhaps he has more fire in his composition:--Woman
apart, he is a glorious fellow; * * * * apart--alas! alas! alas!
* * * * * * * * apart, what might not be hoped, expected, from
* * * * * * *! So the poor boy flew his kite--but the tail was
lost.--Poor H---- has a book and a fair one to manage;--ticklish--very
ticklish subjects--either:--and your worship has a book to
castrate--and a Fandango to dance--with a _Tol de le rol, de le
rol_.--Your reason for postponing your journey to town is wisely great,
or greatly wise;--it does you honour, because it is founded in equity.
I am glad to hear the Rev. Mr. S---- is better.--I love and venerate
that good man:--not because he begat you, but for his own great parts
and many virtues--by the bye, I know more of him than you think
for.--Tell brother O---- I am glad to hear he is well, and Mrs. O----
better;--and tell him the name of the Bishop’s lady’s dog (that was
lost, and has been missing these two months) is Sherry[15]. When you
see Mr. S----, the good, the friendly, generous Mr. S----, my and mine
make the respects of--we wish him many happy years and his family.--To
Mr. G---- and his amiable daughter, say all that’s right for me. And
now to conclude with thanks, &c. &c. I and we--that’s spouse and
self--remain, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.

[15] Mr. O---- had promised Mr. Sancho two months before to send him
    immediately a present of Sherry.



LETTER CXXVIII.

TO MR. M----.


  Charles Street, Jan. 17, 1780.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

I RECEIVED, as you taught me to expect last week, a very fine * * *,
and after it as kind a letter--in name of a Mr. E---- W---- of Norfolk,
near Houghton-Hall, &c.--I have bespoke a frank, and mean to thank
him--as I also thank you, whom I look upon as the grand friendly
mover of the generously handsome act.--You have your reward, for you
had a pleasure in doing it;--and Mr. W---- has his, if he believes
me honest.--Could I any way retaliate, I should feel lighter--that’s
pride, I own it. Humility should be the poor man’s shirt--and
thankfulness his girdle;--be it so--I do request you to thank Mr. W----
for me, and tell him he has the prayers--not of a raving mad whig--nor
fawning deceitful tory--but of a coalblack, jolly African, who wishes
health and peace to every religion and country throughout the ample
range of God’s creation!--and believes a painter may be saved at the
last day, maugre all the Miss G----’s and widows in this kingdom. I
have done nothing in the shoe affair yet--for which I ought to ask poor
C----’s pardon as well as yours:--the rogue has left the court, and
gone to live in Fish-market, Westminster bridge;--I shall ferret him
out, and make him bless his old master.

I inclose your receipts in proof of my honesty--a rare virtue as times
go!--M---- has wrote to you--left his letter with me--and I, like a
what you please, let it slip into the fire--with a handful of company
he had no business to be amongst:--he shall write you another--you will
both be angry--but you will both forgive, as good Christians ought,
accidents.--I am sorry. I will say no more, but God keep you, and
direct your goings;

  Yours, &c. &c.

  I. SANCHO.


When you see the honourable Mr. B----, give our loves and best
wishes to him and Mrs. B----, and Squire S---- and his good dame
also.--Salute the home of G---- for me.



LETTER CXXIX.

TO MR. W----E.


  Charles Street, March 1, 1780.

  MY GOOD FRIEND,

I WISH to interest you in behalf of the inclosed book--wrote by a
greatly-esteemed friend--a young man of much merit--and a heart
enriched with every virtue--the book I beg you will snatch time to
read with attention.--It is an answer (as you will see) to a flaming
bigoted Mongrel against Toleration.--Swift says, “Zeal is never so
pleased as when you set it a tearing.” He says truly. Could you get
the pamphlet (whose title I forget), you would be better enabled to
judge of the force, truth, and strength of my friend’s answer:--for my
part, I love liberty in every sense, whilst connected with honesty and
truth:--it has been shewn a bookseller, but he happened to be the very
man who had just published a flimsy answer to the same; consequently
would not encourage my friend’s, lest it should injure the sale of
his other.--Understand, my good friend, that the author is very
ill-calculated for booksellers’ and printers’ jockeyship; which, to a
liberal mind fraught with high and generous ideas, is death and the
devil.

I own, I was guilty of teazing him into the finishing this little work,
with a view of having it printed.--Now, my friend is not richer than
poets commonly are--and, in short, will not run any risks.--I would
gladly stand the expence of printing; but I am not richer than he;--I
want it printed, and request of you, if, upon perusing it, you do not
find it inimical, either to Religion, Country, or Crown, that you
contrive to push it into the world without delay; but if, upon mature
deliberation, you find it dangerous, with washed hands send it me
back, and set me down for an ass, in the trouble I have given thee and
myself.--Perhaps, jaundiced by prejudice, I behold it with too partial
eyes; for I verily believe it will not discredit the printer:--suppose
you shew it in confidence to the greatly amiable, the good Mr. B----e.
I mention him in particular; for sure I am his nobly benevolent soul
would start at the bare idea of religious persecution:--he would, I
trust, feel the full force of my friend’s reasoning--and his good
opinion would be the best sanction for endeavouring to push the work
forward.

I had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman in our street one day last
week, who seemed to be so goodly a personage, that I said to myself,
There’s Sir Charles Grandison! His figure was noble--his eye brightened
with kindness--the man of fashion and of sense was conspicuous in
him:--think how I stared, when the gentleman accosted me--said, he knew
me through my friend W----e;--his name was * * * *. I bowed, and
stammered some nonsense--I was taken by surprize.--I am in such a
hurry, and the pen is naught, that I fear you will scarcely understand
this scrawl.--Remember I give you full powers over this work;--do what
you can, but do it soon, and make your report to your friend,

  I. SANCHO[16].

[16] The book alluded to in this letter was printed under the title of,
    “An Answer to the Appeal from the Protestant Association.”



LETTER CXXX.

TO MRS. H----.


  Charles Street, March 25, 1780.

  DEAR MADAM,

I AND mine have a thousand things to thank you for--shall I say the
plain truth, and own I am proud to know that you care for me and my
little ones? your friendly attention to our interests proves it--but
mortals of your cast are oftener envied than loved:--the majority,
who are composed chiefly of the narrow-minded or contracted hearts,
and of selfish avidity, cannot comprehend the delight in doing as
they would be done by--and consequently cannot love what they do not
understand.--Excuse my nonsense, I ever write just what I think:--my
business was to give you some account why I delayed the teas, and
to thank you for your very noble order.--Sir Jacob was here this
afternoon, and, if his looks tell truth, he is exceeding well. H----
desires his love to you and the worthy partner of your heart, to whom
I join with my spouse in wishing every earthly felicity--heavenly
you have both insured, by being faithful stewards.--Sir Jacob sent a
parcel--which accompanies the teas--which I hope will reach you safe
and right, as they set out to-morrow noon--Tell Mr. H----, I pray you,
that the winter has used me as roughly as it has him--I never have been
so unwell for these four months past;--but, alas! one reason is, I do
believe, that I am past fifty;--but I hope with you, that spring will
set us all right.--As to complaints in trade, there is nothing else--we
are all poor, all grumblers, all preaching œconomy--and wishing our
neighbours to practise it;--but no one but the quite undone begins
at home. We are all patriots, all politicians, all state-quacks, and
all fools:--the ladies are turned orators, and declaim in public,
expose their persons, and their erudition, to every Jackanapes who
can throw down half a crown:--as to the men, they are past saving;--as
I can say no good, I will stop where I am. And is my good friend Mr.
S---- unmarried still? Fie, fie upon him! how can he enjoy any good
alone? He should take a partner, to lead him gently down the hill of
life--to superintend his linen and his meat;--to give sweet poignancy
to his beverage--and talk him to sleep on nights.--Pray tell him all I
say--and also that the majority are killing up the minority as fast as
they can:--nothing but duels, and rumours of duels.--But is it now time
to finish? Dear Madam, forgive all my impertinences; and, believe me,
dame Sancho and self have a true sense of your goodness, and repeatedly
thank you both for your kindness to,

  Yours in sincerity,
  and greatly obliged friends,

  +ANNE+ and +IGN. SANCHO+.



LETTER CXXXI.

For the +General Advertiser+.


  August 29, 1780.

  FRIEND EDITOR,

“IN the multitude of Counsellors there is wisdom,” sayeth the
preacher--and at this present crisis of national jeopardy, it
seemeth to me befitting for every honest man to offer his mite of
advice towards public benefit and edification.--The vast bounties
offered for able-bodied men sheweth the zeal and liberality of our
wise lawgivers--yet indicateth a scarcity of men. Now, they seem
to me to have overlooked one resource (which appears obvious); a
resource which would greatly benefit the people at large (by being
more usefully employed), and which are happily half-trained already
for the service of their country, by being _powder-proof_, light,
active, young fellows:--I dare say you have anticipated my scheme,
which is to form ten companies at least, out of the very numerous
body of hair-dressers:--they are, for the most part, clean, clever,
young men--and, as observed above, the utility would be immense:--the
ladies, by once more getting the management of their heads into their
own hands, might possibly regain their native reason and œconomy--and
the gentlemen might be induced by mere necessity to comb and care for
their own heads;--those (I mean) who have heads to care for.--If the
above scheme should happily take place, among the many advantages too
numerous to particularize, which would of course result from it, one
not of the least magnitude would be a prodigious saving in the great
momentous article of time; people of the _ton_ of both sexes (to speak
within probability) usually losing between two or three hours daily on
that important business.--My plan, Mr. Editor, I have the comfort to
think, is replete with good;--it tends to serve my king and country in
the first instance--and to cleanse, settle, and emancipate from the
cruel bondage of French, as well as native frizeurs, the heads of my
fellow-subjects.

  Yours, &c.

  +Africanus.+



LETTER CXXXII.

TO MRS. H----.


  Charles Street, May 20, 1780.

  DEAR MADAM,

YOUR goodness is never tired with action!--How many, very many times
have I to thank you, for your friendly interesting yourself in our
behalf!--You will say thanks are irksome to a generous mind--so I
have done--but must first ask pardon for a sin of omission.--I never
sent you word that your good son, as friendly as polite, paid me
the note directly, and would not suffer it to run its sight:--they
that know Sir Jacob will not wonder; for he is a Christian, which
means, in my idea, a gentleman not of the modern sort.--Trade is at
so low an ebb, the greatest are glad to see ready money:--in truth,
we are a ruined people--let hirelings affect to write and talk as
big as they please! and, what is worse, religion and morality are
vanished with our prosperity--every good principle seems to be
leaving us:--as our means lessen, luxury and every sort of expensive
pleasure increases.--The blessed Sabbath-day is used by the trader for
country excursions--tavern dinners--rural walks--and then whipping
and galloping through dust and over turnpikes drunk home.--The poorer
sort do any thing--but go to church;--they take their dust in the
field, and conclude the sacred evening with riots, drunkenness, and
empty pockets:--the beau in upper life hires his whisky and beast
for twelve shillings; his girl dressed _en militaire_ for half a
guinea, and spends his whole week’s earnings to look and be thought
_quite the thing_.--And for upper tiptop high life--cards and music
are called in, to dissipate the chagrin of a tiresome, tedious
Sunday’s evening.--The example spreads downwards from them to their
domestics;--the laced valet and the livery beau either debauch the
maids, or keep their girls:--thus profusion and cursed dissipation
fill the prisons, and feed the gallows.--The clergy--hush! I will not
meddle with them--God forbid I should!--they are pretty much the same
in all places;--but this I will affirm, where-ever a preacher is in
earnest in his duty, and can _preach_, he will not want for crouded
congregations.--As to our politics--now don’t laugh at me--for every
one has a right to be a politician; so have I; and though only a poor,
thick-lipped son of Afric! may be as notable a Negro state-botcher
as * * * * *, and so on for five hundred:--I do not mean B--e, S--le,
B--é, nor D--n--g. Mind that----no, nor N--th, G--m--e, J--k--n, nor
W--dd--ne, names that will shine in history when the marble monuments
of their earthly flatterers shall be mouldering into dust.--I have
wrote absolute nonsense--I mean the monuments of N--th, G--m--e, &c.
and not of their flatterers--but it is right I should give you an
apology for this foolish letter.--Know then, my dear Madam, I have
been seriously and literally fast asleep for these two months;--true,
upon the word of a poor sufferer, a kind of lethargy.--I can sleep
standing, walking, and feel so intolerably heavy, and oppressed with
it, that sometimes I am ready to tumble when walking in the street.--I
am exceeding sorry to hear Mr. H---- is so poorly--and hope, through
God’s mercy, the waters will have the wished effect. For my own part,
I feel myself ten years older this year than the last.--Time tries
us all--but, blessed be God! in the end we shall be an over-match
for Time, and leave him, scythe and all, in the lurch--when we shall
all enjoy a blessed Eternity.--In this view, and under the same
hope, we are as great, yea, as respectable and consequential--as
Statesmen! Bishops! Chancellors! Popes! Heroes! Kings! Actors of
every denomination--who must all drop the mask--when the fated minute
arrives--and, alas! some of the very high be obliged to give place to
Mr. and Mrs. H----. May you and yours enjoy every felicity here! every
blessing hereafter! wish thy much obliged friends!

  The +SANCHOS+.



LETTER CXXXIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles-Street, June 6, 1780.

  DEAR AND MOST RESPECTED SIR,

IN the midst of the most cruel and ridiculous confusion--I am now set
down to give you a very imperfect sketch of the maddest people--that
the maddest times were ever plagued with.--The public prints have
informed you (without doubt) of last Friday’s transactions;--the
insanity of Ld. G. G. and the worse than Negro barbarity of the
populace; the burnings and devastations of each night--you will also
see in the prints;--this day, by consent, was set apart for the
farther consideration of the wished-for repeal;--the people (who had
their proper cue from his lordship) assembled by ten o’clock in the
morning.--Lord N--h, who had been up in council at home till four in
the morning, got to the house before eleven, just a quarter of an
hour before the associators reached Palace-yard:--but, I should tell
you, in council there was a deputation from all parties;--the S----
party were for prosecuting Lord G----, and leaving him at large;--the
At--y G----l laughed at the idea, and declared it was doing just
nothing;--the M----y were for his expulsion, and so dropping him
gently into insignificancy;--that was thought wrong, as he would still
be industrious in mischief;--the R----m party, I should suppose,
you will think counselled best, which is, this day to expel him the
house--commit him to the Tower--and then prosecute him at leisure--by
which means he will lose the opportunity of getting a seat in the next
parliament--and have decent leisure to repent him of the heavy evils
he has occasioned.--There is at this present moment at least a hundred
thousand poor, miserable ragged rabble, from twelve to sixty years of
age, with blue cockades in their hats--besides half as many women
and children--all parading the streets--the bridge--the park--ready
for any and every mischief.--Gracious God! what’s the matter now? I
was obliged to leave off--the shouts of the mob--the horrid clashing
of swords--and the clutter of a multitude in swiftest motion--drew me
to the door--when every one in the street was employed in shutting up
shop--It is now just five o’clock--the ballad-singers are exhausting
their musical talents with the downfall of Popery, S--h, and N--h.
Lord S--h narrowly escaped with life about an hour since;--the mob
seized his chariot going to the house, broke his glasses, and, in
struggling to get his lordship out, somehow have cut his face; the
guards flew to his assistance--the light-horse scowered the road, got
his chariot, escorted him from the coffee-house, where he had fled
for protection, to his carriage, and guarded him bleeding very fast
home. This--this--is liberty! genuine British liberty!--This instant
about two thousand liberty boys are swearing and swaggering by with
large sticks--thus armed in hopes of meeting with the Irish chairmen
and labourers--all the guards are out--and all the horse;--the poor
fellows are just worn out for want of rest--having been on duty
ever since Friday. Thank heaven, it rains; may it increase, so as
to send these deluded wretches safe to their homes, their families,
and wives! About two this afternoon a large party took it into their
heads to visit the King and Queen, and entered the Park for that
purpose--but found the guard too numerous to be forced, and after some
useless attempts gave it up. It is reported, the house will either be
prorogued, or parliament dissolved, this evening--as it is in vain to
think of attending any business while this anarchy lasts.

I cannot but felicitate you, my good friend, upon the happy distance
you are placed from our scene of confusion.--May foul Discord and
her cursed train never nearer approach your blessed abode! Tell Mrs.
S----, her good heart would ach, did she see the anxiety, the woe, in
the faces of mothers, wives, and sweethearts, each equally anxious for
the object of their wishes, the beloved of their hearts. Mrs. Sancho
and self both cordially join in love and gratitude, and every good
wish--crowned with the peace of God, which passeth all understanding,
&c.

  I am, dear Sir,
  Yours ever by inclination,

  IGN. SANCHO.


  Postscript,

The Sardinian ambassador offered 500 guineas to the rabble, to save
a painting of our Saviour from the flames, and 1000 guineas not to
destroy an exceeding fine organ: the gentry told him, they would burn
him if they could get at him, and destroyed the picture and organ
directly. I am not sorry I was born in Afric.--I shall tire you, I
fear--and, if I cannot get a frank, make you pay dear for bad news.
There is about a thousand mad men, armed with clubs, bludgeons, and
crows, just now set off for Newgate, to liberate, they say, their
honest comrades.--I wish they do not some of them lose their lives
of liberty before morning. It is thought by many who discern deeply,
that there is more at the bottom of this business than merely the
repeal of an act--which as has yet produced no bad consequences, and
perhaps never might.--I am forced to own, that I am for an universal
toleration. Let us convert by our example, and conquer by our meekness
and brotherly love!

Eight o’clock. Lord G---- G---- has this moment announced to my Lords
the mob--that the act shall be repealed this evening:--upon this, they
gave a hundred chears--took the horses from his hackney-coach, and
rolled him full jollily away:--they are huzzaing now ready to crack
their throats.

  _Huzza!_

I am forced to conclude for want of room--the remainder in our next.



LETTER CXXXIV.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, June 9, 1780.

  MY DEAR SIR,

GOVERNMENT is sunk in lethargic stupor--anarchy reigns--when
I look back to the glorious time of a George II. and a Pitt’s
administration--my heart sinks at the bitter contrast. We may now
say of England, as was heretofore said of Great Babylon--“the beauty
of the excellency of the Chaldees is no more;”--the Fleet Prison,
the Marshalsea, King’s-Bench, both Compters, Clerkenwell, and
Tothill-Fields, with Newgate, are flung open;--Newgate partly burned,
and 300 felons, from thence only, let loose upon the world. Lord
M----’s house in town suffered martyrdom; and his sweet box at Caen
Wood escaped almost miraculously, for the mob had just arrived, and
were beginning with it, when a strong detachment from the guards and
light-horse came most critically to its rescue--the library, and,
what is of more consequence, papers and deeds of vast value, were all
cruelly consumed in the flames. Ld. N--’s house was attacked; but they
had previous notice, and were ready for them. The Bank, the Treasury,
and thirty of the chief noblemen’s houses, are doomed to suffer by the
insurgents. There were six of the rioters killed at Ld. M----’s, and,
what is remarkable, a daring chap, escaped from Newgate, condemned to
die this day, was the most active in mischief at Ld. M----’s, and was
the first person shot by the soldiers; so he found death a few hours
sooner than if he had not been released.--The ministry have tried
lenity, and have experienced its inutility; and martial law is this
night to be declared.--If any body of people above ten in number are
seen together, and refuse to disperse, they are to be fired at without
any further ceremony--so we expect terrible work before morning.--The
insurgents visited the Tower, but it would not do:--they had better
luck in the Artillery-ground, where they found and took to their use
500 stand of arms; a great error in city politics, not to have secured
them first.--It is wonderful to hear the execrable nonsense that is
industriously circulated amongst the credulous mob, who are told his
M----y regularly goes to mass at Ld. P--re’s chaple--and they believe
it, and that he pays out of his privy purse Peter-pence to Rome. Such
is the temper of the times--from too relaxed a government;--and a King
and Queen on the throne who possess every virtue. May God, in his
mercy, grant that the present scourge may operate to our repentance and
amendment! that it may produce the fruits of better thinking, better
doing, and in the end make us a wise, virtuous, and happy people!--I
am, dear Sir, truly, Mrs. S----’s and your most grateful and obliged
friend and servant,

  I. SANCHO.


The remainder in our next.

Half past nine o’clock.

King’s-Bench prison is now in flames, and the prisoners at large; two
fires in Holborn now burning.



LETTER CXXXV.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 9, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

HAPPILY for us, the tumult begins to subside:--last night much
was threatened, but nothing done--except in the early part of the
evening, when about four-score or an hundred of the reformers got
decently knocked on the head;--they were half killed by Mr. Langdale’s
spirits--so fell an easy conquest to the bayonet and butt-end.--There
are about fifty taken prisoners--and not a blue cockade to be
seen:--the streets once more wear the face of peace--and men seem once
more to resume their accustomed employments.--The greatest losses have
fallen upon the great distiller near Holborn-bridge, and Lord M----;
the former, alas! has lost his whole fortune;--the latter, the greatest
and best collection of manuscript writings, with one of the finest
libraries in the kingdom. Shall we call it a judgement?--or what shall
we call it? The thunder of their vengeance has fallen upon Gin and
Law--the two most inflammatory things in the Christian world.--We have
a Coxheath and Warley of our own; Hyde Park has a grand encampment,
with artillery, Park, &c. &c. St. James’s Park has ditto--upon a
smaller scale. The Parks, and our West end of the town, exhibit the
features of French government. This minute, thank God! this moment
Lord G. G. is taken. Sir F. Molineux has him safe at the horse-guards.
Bravo! he is now going in state in an old hackney-coach, escorted by a
regiment of militia and troop of light horse, to his apartments in the
Tower.

    “Off with his head--so much--for Buckingham.”

We have taken this day numbers of the poor wretches, in so much we
know not where to place them. Blessed be the Lord! we trust this
affair is pretty well concluded.--If any thing transpires worth your
notice--you shall hear from

  Your much obliged, &c. &c.

  IGN. SANCHO.


Best regards attend Mrs. S----. His lordship was taken at five o’clock
this evening--betts run fifteen to five, Lord G-- G-- is hanged in
eight days:--he wished much to speak to his Majesty on Wednesday, but
was of course refused.



LETTER CXXXVI.

TO J. S----, ESQ.


  June 13, 1780.

  MY DEAR SIR,

THAT my poor endeavours have given you information or amusement,
gratifies the warm wish of my heart; for, as I know not the man to
whose kindness I am so much indebted, I may safely say, I know not the
man whose esteem I more ardently covet and honour.--We are exceeding
sorry to hear of Mrs. S----’s indisposition; and hope, ere this reaches
you, she will be well, or greatly mended.--The spring with us has been
very sickly--and the summer has brought with it sick times;--sickness!
cruel sickness! triumphs through every part of the constitution:--the
State is sick--the Church (God preserve it!) is sick--the Law,
Navy, Army, all sick--the people at large are sick with taxes--the
Ministry with Opposition, and Opposition with Disappointment.--Since
my last, the temerity of the mob has gradually subsided;--numbers
of the unfortunate rogues have been taken:--yesterday about thirty
were killed in and about Smithfield, and two soldiers were killed in
the affray.--There is no certainty yet as to the number of houses
burnt and gutted--for every day adds to the account--which is a proof
how industrious they were in their short reign.--Few evils but are
productive of some good in the end:--the suspicious turbulence of the
times united the royal brothers;--the two Dukes, dropping all past
resentment, made a filial tender of their services;--his Majesty (God
bless him!) as readily accepted it--and on Thursday last the brothers
met;--they are now a triple cord--God grant a blessing to the union!
There is a report current this day, that the mob of York city have
rose, and let 3000 French prisoners out of York-castle--but it meets
with very little credit.--I do not believe they have any thing like the
number of French in those parts--as I am informed the prisoners are
sent more to the western inland counties--but every hour has its fresh
cargo of lies. The camp in St. James’s Park is daily increasing--that
and Hyde Park will be continued all the summer.--The K--g is much among
them--walking the lines--and examining the posts:--he looks exceeding
grave. Crowns, alas! have more thorns than roses.

You see things, my dear Sir, with the faithful eye which looks, through
nature, up to Nature’s God--the sacred page is your support--the word
of God your shield and armour--well may you be able so sweetly to
deduce good out of evil--the Lord ordereth your goings--and gives the
blessings of increase to all your wishes. For your kind anxiety about
me and family, we bless and thank you.--I own, at first I felt uneasy
sensations--but a little reflection brought me to myself.--Put thy
trust in God, quoth I.--Mrs. Sancho, whose virtues out-number my vices
(and I have enough for any one mortal), feared for me and for her
children more than for herself.--She prayed too, I dare say--and her
prayers were heard.

America seems to be quite lost or forgot among us;--the fleet is
but a secondary affair.--Pray God send us some good news, to chear
our drooping apprehensions, and to enable me to send you pleasanter
accounts;--for trust me, my worthy friend, grief, sorrow, devastation,
blood, and slaughter, are totally foreign to the taste and affection of

  Your faithful friend
  and obliged servant,

  I. SANCHO.


Our joint best wishes to Mrs. S----, self, and family.



LETTER CXXXVII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 15, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I AM exceeding happy to inform you, that at twelve this noon Lord L----
arrived express from Sir H-- C----, with the pleasing news, that, on
the 12th of April, Charles Town with its dependencies capitulated
to his Majesty’s arms, with the loss of 200 men on our side: by
which fortunate event, five ships of war, besides many frigates, and
one thousand seamen, were captured; and seven thousand military,
which compose the garrison.--You will have pleasure, I am sure, in
finding so little blood shed--and in the hope of its accelerating the
so-much-wished-for peace. Inclosed is a list of the prisoners, which
is from Lord Lincoln’s account--at least I am confidently told so--and
more than that, it is said the late terrible riot was on a plan
concerted between the French and Americans--upon which their whole hope
of success was founded--they expected universal bankruptcy would be the
consequence, with despair and every sad concomitant in its train. By
God’s goodness, we have escaped. May we deserve so great mercy!

  Prays sincerely yours,

  I. SANCHO.


The Gazette will not be out in time, but you shall have one to-morrow
without fail.--As soon as this news was announced, the Tower and Park
guns confirmed it--the guards encamped in the Parks fired each a grand
_feu de joye_--to-night we blaze in illuminations--and to-morrow get
up as poor and discontented as ever. I wish, dear Sir, very much to
hear Mrs. S---- is quite recovered--it would indicate more than a
common want of feeling, were not my wife and self anxious for the
health and repose of such very rare friends.--Indulge us, do, dear Sir,
with a single line, that we may joy in your joy upon her amendment,
or join our wishes with yours to the God of mercy and love, for her
speedy recovery.--I inclose you an evening paper--there is not much
in it. Upon consideration, I have my doubts concerning the French
and Americans being so deep in the plan of our late riots;--there
requires, I think, a kind of supernatural knowledge to adjust their
motions so critically--but you can judge far better than my weak
intellects;--therefore I will not pretend to affirm any thing for
truth, except my sincere desire to approve myself most gratefully

  Your obliged servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXXVIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 16, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

AS a supplement to my last--this is to tell you a piece of private
news--which gives ministry high hopes in the future. General
Washington, who was anxiously watching Sir H. Clinton, no sooner saw
with certainty his intention, but he struck his camp, and made the
most rapid march to New York--they expected it;--but, as he was in
superior force, they felt their danger.--Sir H. Clinton, as soon as
he could possibly settle the garrison of Charles Town, embarked with
seven thousand men, and got to New York in time to save it;--and
if he can possibly bring Washington to a battle, it is thought the
fate of America will be soon decided.--Thank God! the sky clears in
that quarter--but we look rather louring at home.--Ministry wish
now too plainly to disarm the subjects. Last year, under dread of
French invasion, the good people were thanked for their military
favour.--Master tradesmen armed their journeymen and apprentices--and
the serjeants of the guards absolutely made little fortunes in teaching
grown gentlemen of all descriptions their exercise--in fancied
uniforms, and shining arms, they marched to the right, wheeled to the
left, and looked battle-proof;--but now, it seems, they are not only
useless, but offensive. How the affair will end, God only knows!--I
do not like its complexion.--Government has ordered them to give up
their arms. If they do, where is British liberty? If they refuse,
what is Administration? Many are gentlemen of large property--Inns
of Court Members, Lawyers, &c. dangerous people.--Time will unveil
the whole--May its lenient powers pour the balm of healing councils
on this once glorious spot!--and make it as heretofore the nurse of
freedom--Europe’s fairest example--the land of truth, bravery, loyalty,
and of every heart-gladdening virtue! That you and Mrs. S---- may,
surrounded with friends, and in the enjoyment of every good, live to
see the completion of my wishes--is the concluding prayer of,

  Dear Sir,
  Yours ever, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXXXIX.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 19, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I AM sorry to hear by brother O---- that Mrs. S---- yet continues but
poorly--may she be soon perfectly well--and health attend you both! We
remain pretty quiet--the military are so judiciously placed, that in
fact the whole town (in despight of its magnitude) is fairly overawed
and commanded by them. His M----y went this day to the house--and gave
them the very best speech, in my opinion, of his whole life: I have the
pleasure to inclose it.--If I err in judgement, I know you more the
true candid friend, than the severe critic--and that you will smile at
the mistake of the head, and do justice to the heart, of

  Your ever obliged,

  I. SANCHO.


There is a report, that the Quebec fleet, escorted by two frigates,
are entirely captured by a French squadron.--I hope this will prove
premature.



LETTER CXL.

TO MR. J---- W----E.


  Charles Street, Westm. June 23, 1780.

  MY DEAR FRIEND,

HOW do you do? is the blessing of health upon you? do you eat
moderately? drink temperately, and laugh heartily? sleep soundly?
converse carefully with one eye to pleasure, the other fixed upon
improvement? The above is the hope and wish of thy friend, friend to
thy house, and respecter of its character.--You, happy young man, by as
happy a coincidence of fortune, are like to be the head of the W----
family:--may riches visit you, coupled with honour and honesty!--and
then sweet peace of mind shall yield you a dignity--which kings have
not power to confer:--then will you experience that the self-ennobled
are the only true noble:--then will you truly feel those beautiful
lines of Pope:

    “One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
    “Of idle starers, or of loud huzza’s;
    “What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
    “Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.”

Your father, I trust, will send you some public prints, in which
he will see the blessed temper of the times:--we are (but do not
be frightened), or at least two thirds of us, run mad--through too
much religion;--our religion has swallowed up our charity--and the
fell demon Persecution is become the sacred idol of the once free,
enlightened, generous Britons.--You will read with wonder and horror
the sad, sad history of eight such days as I wish from my soul could be
annihilated out of Time’s records for ever.

That poor wretched young man I once warned you of is (I find from
under his own hand) now resident at Calcutta:--’tis not in the power
of friendship to serve a man who will in no one instance care for
himself:--so I wish you not to know him--but whatever particulars you
can collaterally glean of him, I shall esteem it a favour if you would
transmit them to

  Your sincere friend,

  IGNATIUS SANCHO.


Mrs. Sancho joins me cordially in every wish for your good.



LETTER CXLI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  June 27, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

THERE is news this day arrived, which, I believe, may be depended
upon--that Rodney brought the French admiral to a second engagement
about the 26th of May; it unluckily fell calm, or the affair would have
been decisive.--The van of Rodney, however, got up to Mons. Guichen’s
fleet’s rear, and gave it a hearty welcome.--Rodney still keeps the
seas, and prevents the French fleet getting into Martinique.--The
account says, the enemy had the advantage of six ships of the line more
than Rodney;--and a report runs current, that Walsingham has fallen-in
with the Dominica fleet, consisting of thirty merchantmen and two
frigates, and taken most of them--but this wants confirmation.--Dear
Sir, I hope Mrs. S---- is better than mending--quite well--to whom
our most sincere respects.--Your order, good Sir, is compleated, and,
please God, will be delivered to to-morrow’s waggon.

Excuse my scrawling hand--in truth my eyes fail me; I feel myself since
last winter an old man all at once--the failure of eyes--the loss of
teeth--the thickness of hearing--are all messengers sent in mercy and
love, to turn our thoughts to the important journey which kings and
great men seldom think about:--it is for such as you to meditate on
time and eternity with true pleasure--looking back, you have very much
to comfort you;--looking forward, you have all to hope.--As I have
reason to respect you in this life, may I and mine be humble witnesses
in the next of the exceeding weight of bliss and glory poured out
without measure upon thee and thine!

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXLII.

TO MR. O----.


  July 1, 1780.

  DEAR BROTHER,

SHALL I rejoice or condole with you upon this new acquaintance you
have made? How the devil it found you out, I cannot imagine--I suppose
the father of mischief sent it to some richer neighbour at a greater
house; but as Johnny O---- was a character better known, and much more
esteemed, the gout thought he might as well just take a peep at F----m,
liked the place, and the man of the place--and so, nestling into
your shoe, quite forgot his real errand:--thy guardian angel watched
the whole procedure--quoth he, “I cannot wholly avert evils--but I
can turn them into blessings.--This transitory pain shall not only
refine his blood, and cleanse him from other disorders--it shall also
lengthen his life, and purify his heart:--the hour of affliction is
the seed-time of reflection--the good shall greatly over-balance the
evil.”----As I am unfortunately an adept in the gout, I ought to send
you a cart-load of cautions and advice--talk nonsense about tight
shoes, &c. with a farrago of stuff more teazing than the pain;--but I
hear the ladies visit you--and, what’s better, friendship in the shape
of Messieurs S----k and B----n were seen to enter the palace of F----.
I supped last night with Dr. R----, where your health was drunk, and
your gout pretty freely canvassed.

  God orders all for the best.
  Yours, &c.

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXLIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  July 5, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I RECEIVED yours this morning from the hands of a gentleman, who would
not stay to be thanked for the invaluable letter he brought me.--You
truly say, that cold lowness of spirits engenders melancholy thoughts;
for my part, I should be a most ungrateful being to repine--for I have
known good health--and even now, though not well, far from being ill,
and have the friendship of Mr. S----, and one or two more who do honour
to human nature.--But the purpose of this scrawl is to confirm to you a
piece of good news this day arrived--which is, that both the Carolinas,
and best part of Virginia, are all come in to their allegiance.--The
back settlers have rose, and mustered the reluctant:--thus the three
richest and strongest provinces are now in the King’s peace--for which,
God make us thankful.

Adieu, dear Sir.--Mrs. Sancho (whose eyes kindle with pleasure while
she speaks) begs to be joined with me in the most respectful manner to
Mrs. S---- and yourself--hope Mrs. S---- is quite as well as you can
wish her.

  I am ever yours,
  Dear Sir, to command,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXLIV.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, August 18, 1780.

  MY DEAR AND HON. SIR,

MY long silence was the effect of a dearth of news:--I could have
wrote, it’s true--but you would have ill relished a mass of thanks
upon favours received.--Minds like yours diffuse blessings around; and,
like parent heaven, rest satisfied with the heart.--Your goodness,
dear Sir, is registered there--and death will not expunge it.--No; it
will travel to the throne of grace, and the Almighty will not wrong
you.--I am just risen from table with my friend R----, and we have
toasted you most cordially in conjunction with the amiable partner of
your heart, whom I hope in some happy time to see--I may say, hunger
and thirst to see--it’s the wish of my heart.--Providence has indulged
me with many, and I will hope for the completion of this.--But to
the point:--a gentleman in administration (with whom I am upon good
terms) about an hour since called upon me, to give me some fresh news
just arrived from Admiral Geary’s fleet--an engagement between a new
French frigate, pierced for 44 guns, mounting 32, called the Nymphe,
and the Flora English frigate, Capt. Peere Williams[17], of 36 guns;
the Flora was peeping into Brest harbour, when the Nymphe was coming
out full of men;--they were both in the right mind for engagement--to
it they went--the Frenchman began the affair at two cables length
distance.--Williams reserved his fire till they were within
half-cable’s length--it lasted with the obstinacy of two enraged lions
for above two hours.--A French cutter came up to teaze, but was sent
off soon with a belly-full:--at last the French captain, at the head
of his men, attempted boarding--when our English hero met him--ran him
through the body--drove back his men--put them under hatches--struck
the colours--when she was on fire in four different places.--This
affair happened the 10th ult. and he has gallantly brought his prize
into Plymouth.--This is the greatest affair, take the number of guns,
men &c. altogether, that has happened this war. I am sorry to remark,
that if the French fleets in general behave so well, it will be a
service of danger to meddle with them.

When Capt. Williams had conquered the crew, they found sixty dead upon
deck;--the two ships exhibited a scene more like a slaughter-house,
than any thing imaginable--These, oh Christians! are the features of
war--and thus Most Christian Kings and Defenders of Faith shew their
zeal and love for the dying commands of their Divine Master.--Oh!
friend, may every felicity be thine, and those beloved by thee! may the
heartfelt sigh arise only at the tale of foreign woes!--May that sacred
tear of pity bedew the cheek for misfortunes only such as humanity may
soften!--Mrs. Sancho joins me in sincere and grateful respects to Mrs.
S---- and self.

  Yours truly,

  I. SANCHO.


Sancho begs his respects to Mr. and Mrs. C----; love to Sir J-- O----.
and all who enquire after Blackamoors.

[17] Capt. Peere Williams is first cousin to Lady N----; and he will
    not fare the worse for that.



LETTER CXLV.

TO MRS. C----.


  Charles Street, Sept. 7, 1780.

MY greatly esteemed and honoured friend, if my pen doth justice in any
sort to my feelings, this letter will not be a complimentary one.--I
look upon such letters as I do upon the ladies winter nosegays, a
choice display of vivid colouring, but no sweetness.--My friend Mr.
R---- says, I stand condemned in the opinions of two ladies for an
omittance in writing: believe me, my sorrow for incurring the censure
is much more real than the crime; for when the heart is overcharged
with worldly care, the mind bending also to the pressure of afflictive
visitations--add to that the snow-tipt hairs announcing fifty odd--the
fire of fancy is quite extinguished.--Alas! alas! such being the true
state of the case--I dare abide by the jury of your noble and equitable
hearts, to be brought in not guilty. The shew of hands was greatly
in favour of Mr. C---- F--x and Sir G---- R----y; they will carry it
all to nothing, is the opinion of the knowing--Lord L---- met with a
coarse reception, at which he was a little displeased.--Mr. B--g spoke
like the pupil of eloquence;--but the glorious F--x was the father and
school of oratory himself--the Friend! the Patron! the Example!--There
now.--I attended the hustings from ten to half past two--gave my free
vote to the Honourable C---- J---- F--x and to Sir G---- R----y;
hobbled home full of pain and hunger.--What followed after, you shall
know in my next. At present I have only to declare myself

  Yours and Miss C----’s
  most obedient, faithful,
  humble servant,

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CXLVI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Sept. 9, 1780.

WE are all election-bewitched here--I hope Sir C---- B---- meets
with no opposition--he is so worthy a character, that, should he be
ill supported, it would impeach the good sense and honesty of his
constituents.--Mrs. S---- and yourself, I pray God, may both enjoy
health and every good.--I here inclose you this evening’s paper, by
which you will see how the F--x is like to lead Ad----n. He and Sir
G---- B---- R---- had my hearty vote, and I had the honour of his
thanks personally, and in writing also. I have to thank you for a
thousand kind things, which I wish from my soul I could any way ever
deserve. May health and every blessing bestrew your paths--and those of
all you love!--is the prayer and wish of

  Your much obliged
  humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CXLVII.

TO MISS C----.


  Saturday, Sept. 9, 1780.

  DEAR MISS,

I HAVE the honour to address you upon a very interesting, serious,
critical subject.--Do not be alarmed! it is an affair which I have
had at heart some days past--it has employed my meditations more than
my prayers.--Now, I protest, I feel myself in the most aukward of
situations--but it must out--and so let it.--But how does my good,
my half-adored Mrs. C----? and how does Miss A----? and when did you
see my worthy Mrs. R----? Are they all well, and happy as friendship
could wish them? How is the Doctor and Beau S----, all well?--Well,
thank God--and you and your dear self are well? Honey, and was not Lord
N---- an Irish title? true, but the chield is Scotch born.--Pray give
my best affections to Mrs. C----, and acquaint her with the state
of the poll for the ancient city and liberty of Westminster, which I
inclose. I would not wish you to mention what I so boldly advanced in
the beginning of this letter.--No; let it die away like a miser’s hope.

  Your most obedient,
  most humble servant,
  I remain, dear Miss C----,

  I. SANCHO.


The remainder in our next.



LETTER CXLVIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Sept. 23, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I RECEIVED this evening one of the kindest letters that ever friendship
dictated--for which I rejoice that the time draws near, when I shall
have the delight to amend my health--and see the few true good
friends--such as my soul delighteth to honour.--I inclose you an
evening paper.--Thank God! although the people have been a little
irritated, every thing appears quiet, and I hope will remain so. The
week after next, I hope to see the good Mrs. S---- and your worthy
self, to whom Mrs. Sancho joins me in best wishes.

  I am, dear Sir,
  Your most obedient
  humble servant,

  I. SANCHO.


The principal business I had to write about had like to have escaped
me, which is your kindness in offering your house for head-quarters;
which I would embrace, had not brother O---- the right of priority.



LETTER CXLIX.

TO DOCTOR N--F--D.


  Charles Street, Westm. Oct. 13, 1780.

  HONOURED SIR,

WERE I to omit my thanks--poor as they are--for a single post--your
honest and more sensible dog would be ashamed of me.

  “A merciful man is good to his beasts.”

The friendly hand which strokes and rewards his attentions, that same
friendly hand has prescribed for my good--and under God has much
benefited my health;--the eye of kindness, which animates the poor
animal to deeds almost beyond instinct, hath beamed upon me also, and
given me the pleasing assurance of new health.--I wish, dear Sir, for
just as much credit in the point of gratitude, as you will allow to
fall to the share of any poor honest dog.--For so much, and no more,
prayeth, dear Sir,

  Your most obedient
  and grateful servant,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CL.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Friday, Oct 13, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I SHOULD esteem myself too happy, were I at this moment certain that
Mrs. S---- were as much better as I find myself;--but when I consider
the professional skill, as well as the interest Dr. N---- has in the
welfare of you and yours, I sit down satisfied, in full hope that
Mrs. S---- is at this moment better--much better--and, as one spirit
animates you both, you are better too. May health diffuse itself
throughout thy house! and gladden all around it! I am better, my dear
Sir.--Tell my good Mrs. S----, I shall live to see her, and to thank
her too most cordially in my child’s name: for my part, your liberality
in constant flow has tired me out with thank-ye’s. Adieu, dear Sir.--I
never left a place with so much regret as you made me leave B----
with;--nor ever met with the whole family of the Charities, but at thy
house.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in acknowledgements to self, good Mrs.
S----, and Dr. N--f--d.

  We are, dear Sir,
  Yours gratefully,

  A. I. SANCHO.



LETTER CLI.

TO MR. S----.


  Friday, Oct. 18, 1780.

POOH, no, thou simpleton! I tell thee, I got no cold, neither is my
breath one jot the worse.--I wish I knew that you suffered as little
from break of rest, and raw air.--I am glad I have left you, for your
sake as well as my own, my dear Stee.--The corks flew out of thy
bottles in such rapid succession, that prudence and pity held a council
upon it.--Generosity stepped in, followed by a pert coxcomb, whom they
called Spirit--and God knows how the affair is to end.--I intend to
write a line to the worthies of your town, the good Mr. S-- and Dr.
N--f--d. O Stee! had I thy abilities, I would say what should credit
my feelings, though it fell far short of the merits of such friends to
mankind--and

  Your +IGN. SANCHO+, in particular.


Love and respects to thy generous scholars--the Greens--the Browns, &c.
&c. to reverends Mess. Prettyman, and the other gentleman with pretty
wife, whose name is deserted from the silly pate of thy true friend
Sancho.--I have not seen Mr. J---- H----; but they are all well, as Mr.
Anthony has just announced.

Say handsomely to the Greens--and much as you please to the Prettymans.



LETTER CLII.


  October 15, 1780.

  MY DEAR BOY,

THIS is to thank you kindly for the affectionate mark of your
remembrance of your old friend. After a long tedious voyage, you
happily reached the haven of your repose--found your friends well--and
rejoiced their hearts by presenting, not a prodigal, but a duteous,
worthy, and obedient child;--theirs be the joy--but yours will be
the gain.--As sure as light follows the rising of the sun, and
darkness the setting of it;--so sure is goodness even in this life
its own reward of course. You are in the militia--that will do you no
harm;--spirit and true courage in defence of our country is naturally
and nobly employed.--We are in the upper world playing the old foolish
game--in the same foolish way--and with the same foolish set that
trod the ministerial boards when you left us. Your friend D---- tries
expedients, and gets nothing;--he is very deep in my debt; but as he
has nothing, I can expect nothing--for I never will consent to do that
to others, I would not they should do unto me.--N---- does better,
and grows proud--I wish him joy.--My dear youth, be proud of nothing
but an honest heart.--Let the sacred oracles be your morn and evening
counsellors--so shall you truly enjoy life, and smile at the approach
of death.--I have been exceedingly ill since you left us;--but, thank
God! I have got a fair fit of the gout, which will, I hope, cleanse me
from my whole budget of complaints.--I shall live, I hope, till your
good present arrives;--and then I shall live indeed.--Send the girls
some cherry nuts, if easy to be procured.--Mrs. S---- joins me in love,
good-will, and good wishes for thy peace, health, and prosperity. Adieu.

  Yours affectionately,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CLIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Nov. 1, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I TRUST, in God’s good providence, this will find Mrs. S-- in perfect
health; and you so well, that it shall remain a doubt which is
heartiest.--I am in the way of being well--the gout in both feet and
legs--I go upon all-fours--the conflict has been sharp; I hope the end
is near--I never remembered them to have swelled so much.--I believe my
preserver, Dr. N--f--d, would allow it to be a decent fit;--my grateful
respects attend him: the issue is deferred till the gout subsides, and
I find my breath somewhat better; but I can find no position easy.--I
inclose you the topic of the day.--Mrs. Sancho joins me in every wish
for the felicity of our much-loved friends, yourself, and better self.

  IGN. SANCHO.



LETTER CLIV.

TO MRS. O----.


  Charles Street, Westm. Nᵒ. 19, Nov. 5, 1780.

  DEAR SISTER,

I PRAY thee accept the inclosed as a mite of thanks and gratitude for
the tender care and true friendly obligingness, which a wife could
only equal, and which I never expected to find from home.--I feel and
acknowledge your kindness--_that_, and the _uncommon_ goodness of some
of the best of human nature, shall be cherished in my heart while it
continues to beat.--Every body tells me I am better--and what every
one says must be true;--for my part, I feel a very slow amendment; my
cough is pretty stubborn; my breath very little better; body weak as
water--add to this, a smart gout in both legs and feet.--Your sister
joins me in love and repeated thanks for all favours to her poor,
worn-out, old man,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CLV.

TO J. S----, ESQ.


  Nov. 18, 1780.

  MY DEAR SIR,

IT is a week this blessed day since that I ought, according to every
rule of gratitude, love, and zeal, to have thanked my best friends for
a plenty of some of the best wine, which came in the best time true
kindness could have contrived it.--I should also have congratulated
the many anxious hearts upon the happy recovery of yourself, and my
thrice good Mrs. S----. I waited from post to post, to send a tolerable
account of myself--the gout has used me like a tyrant--and my asthma,
if possible, worse--I have swelled gradually all over.--What a sight!
Dr. J--bb will not suffer me to make an issue yet, as he would not wish
to disturb the gout. In truth, my best friend, I never truly knew
illness till this bout.--Your goodness greatly lessened my anxiety.--I
find in it the continual flow of more than parental kindness:--as God
gave the heart, he must and alone can give the reward!--Our joint best
love, and most respectful thanks, attend you both, from

  Yours gratefully,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CLVI.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, Nov. 17, 1780.

MY friend, patron, preserver! were the mind alone sick, God never
created, since the blessed Apostles days, a better physician than
thyself--either singly, or in happy _partnership_ with the best of
women--not only so, but your blessed zeal, like the Samaritan’s,
forgetful of self-wants, poureth the wine and oil, and binding up the
wounds of worldly sickness--then leaving with reluctance the happy
object of thy care to the mercy of an interested host, with money in
hand you cry--“Call help, spare no expence, and when I return, I will
repay you.”--Indulge me, my noble friend, I have seen the priest, and
the Levite, _after many years knowledge_, snatch a hasty look; then,
with averted face, pursue their different routes: and yet these good
folks pray, turn up their eyes to that Heaven they daily insult, and
take more pains to preserve the appearances of virtue, than would
suffice to make them good in earnest.--You see, my good Sir, by the
galloping of my pen, that I am much mended.--I have been intolerably
plagued with a bilious colic, which, after three days excruciating
torments, gave way to mutton-fat-broth clysters.--I am now (bating the
swelling of my legs and ancles) much mended--air and exercise is all I
want--but the fogs and damps are woefully against me.--Mrs. Sancho, who
reads, weeps, and wonders, as the various passions impel, says, she is
sure the merits of your house would save B----, were the rest of the
inhabitants ever so bad;--she joins me in every grateful thought.--In
good truth, I have not language to express my feelings. Dr. R----
hurries me. Blessed couple, adieu!

  Yours,

  I. SANCHO.



LETTER CLVII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Charles Street, Dec. 1, 1780.

WHY joy in the extreme should end painfully, I cannot find out--but
that it does so, I will ever seriously maintain. When I read the
effusions of goodness, my head turned;--but when I came to consider the
extensive and expensive weight and scope of the contents, my reason
reeled, and idiotism took possession of me--till the friendly tears,
washing away the mills of doubt, presented you to me as beings of a
purer, happier order--which God in his mercy perhaps suffers to be
scattered here and there--thinly--that the lucky few who know them may,
at the same time, know what man in his original state was intended
to be.--I gave your generous request a fair hearing--the two first
proposed places would kill me, except (and that is impossible) Mrs.
Sancho was with me.

Inclination strongly points to the land of friendship--where goodness
ever blossoms--and where N--f--d heals. At present I take nothing, but
am trying for a few days what honest Nature, unperplexed by Art, will
do for me.--I am pretty much swelled still; but I take short airings in
the near stages, such as Greenwich, Clapham, Newington, &c. &c. Walking
kills me. The mind--the mind, my ever dear and honoured friends--the
mind requires her lullaby;--she must have rest ere the body can be in
a state of comfort, she must enjoy peace, and that must be found in
still repose of family and home. Mrs. Sancho, who speaks by her tears,
says what I will not pretend to decypher;--I believe she most fervently
recommends you to that Being who best knows you--for he gave you your
talents. My most grateful and affectionate respects, joined with Mrs.
Sancho’s, attend the good Mrs. S----, thyself, and all thy connexions.
I cannot say how much we are obliged to you; but certainly we were
never so much nor so undeservingly obliged to any before. God keep you
in all your doings--prays thine,

  SANCHO.



LETTER CLVIII.

TO J---- S----, ESQ.


  Dec. 7, 1780.

  DEAR SIR,

I AM doubly and trebly happy, that I can in some measure remove the
anxiety of the best couple in the universe. I set aside all thanks--for
were I to enter into the feelings of my heart for the past and present,
I should fill the sheet: but you would not be pleased.--In good truth,
I have been exceeding ill--my breath grew worse--and the dropsy made
large strides.--I left off medicine by consent for four or five days,
swelled immoderately:--the good Dr. N--f--d eighty miles distant--and
Dr. J--bb heartily puzzled through the darkness of his patient--I began
to feel alarm--when, looking into your letter, I found a Dr. S--th
recommended by yourself. I enquired--his character is great--but for
lungs and dropsy, Sir John E--t, physician extraordinary and ordinary
to his Majesty, is reckoned the first. I applied to him on Sunday
morning--he received me like Dr. N--f--d;--I have faith in him.--My
poor belly is so distended, that I write with pain--I hope next week to
write with more ease. My dutiful respects await Mrs. S---- and self, to
which Mrs. Sancho begs to be joined by her loving husband, and

  Your most grateful friend,

  I. SANCHO.


Mr. Sancho died December 14.



FINIS.



Transcriber's Notes


The following changes have been made to the text as printed:

1. Footnotes have been located immediately below the letter within
which they occur, and marked numerically.

2. Apparent typographical errors have been changed.

3. To avoid an excessively long line, a line break has been inserted
after "loungibuss--" near the start of Letter LI (Page 132).

4. The subheading for Letter XCII (Page 242) has been corrected
from "TO MR. H----." to "TO MRS. H----."


The following anomalies in the printed text are noted, but no change
has been made:

1. Variable, archaic and inconsistent spelling, punctuation and
hyphenation have been left unchanged, apart from apparent typographical
errors.

2. Dashes vary in length. Shorter dashes have been rendered as --, and
longer dashes as ----.

3. Letter LIV (Page 144) contains a sequence of spaced hyphens,
which have been reproduced as printed.

4. There are two successive letters headed LETTER LXVIII (Pages
186 and 195), the second letter being out of date order.



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