so bappy to have su pritty a place, joyn'd the wretched of my own sex. You have
with so pritty a gentlenian as all the done me a sensible pleasure in writeing
world calls Mr. Vane. She dines here an account of your own affairs; and I
to-day with her family. I intend to desire to know how they proceed; and
railly her about Sir William. She is a depend upon it your interests cannot be
good-natur'd young woman, and I hear- indifferent to ine. If you like Mr. Heber
tily wish she may find (if that can be) a I advise you to take him, if the match is
recompence for the disappointment she agreeable to your relations. We must
bas met with in this rouling world. Every do something for the world; and I don't
mortal has their share; and tho' I persist question but your own good humour and
in my notions of happynesse, I begin to his love will make you very happy. 'Tis
believe nobody ever yet experienced it. more prudent to marry to money with
What think you? My present enter nothing else, than every thing else with-
tainment is rideing, which I grow very out money, for there's nothing so hard to
fond of, and endeavour to lay up a stock come by; but that is not your case, since
of good health, the better to endure the Mi. Heber has money and is agreeable
fatigues of life. I hope you are situated 100.-What would you have more!
in an agreeable place, and good air. Prithee, dear child, don't stand in your
You know me, and that I wish you all own light, and let your next letter be
sorts of pleasures; the world affords few, sign'd, A. Heber.
but such as they are, dear Mrs. Ellys, Pray tell me the name of that unfortu-
may you enjoy them all.

nate young lady whom you and I pity so Sept. 10.

To Mrs. Ellys, at Beverly, Yorkshire. Sept. 22.

Po Mrs. A. Justice, at York. The Lord save us! what wretches are men! I know that Lord Castlecoware I wish heartily for the successe of your jutimately well, and have been very gay affair, because I wishi heartily for every in his company. That 'tis possible there thing that pleases you. I agree with you, should be so inbumane a creature! I there is no mistortune so uneasy as unpity the poor young lady to the last de- certainty; and I had rather be sure of gree. A man must have a compound of never having my wishes, than be perpeill-nature, barbarousnesse, and inhuma- tually tossing between hope and fear. I nity, to be able to do such an action. pity poor Mrs. Ridsdale, and am glad her I cannot believe there are manny would family bas so just a sense of her misforbe guilty of it. I could declaim fuur tunes, not to encrease 'em by ill usage. hours upon this subject-'tis something If my Lord Castlecomare had any small rehighly ingrateful and perfidious. I know mains of honesty or good-nature, he would several Lord Castlecomare has made love marry her. I am surprised she has no to, but should have never believ'd him, relation that has spirit enough to take a or any man, so utterly void of all tender- public revenge for a public affront; though nesse and compassion. Had them men ho revenge can come up to the nature of women to their mothers! I can hardly the injury. If I was in the poor lady's believe it. I am of your mind, the young lamentable case, instead of crying and lady is happy if she dies. If he sent her sighing in a chimney corner, wasting tears some ratsbane in a letter, 'tis all the and breath to no purpose, I would e'en kindnesse he can now do, all the recom- pluck up a stout heart, go to London, pence he can now make her. I don't and-poyson him—that's all. Out of an question but there are some of our own excesse of humanity, I would not poyson sex inhumane enough to make a jest of all his family; his uncles and aunts should her misfortunes. Especially being a rest in peace; but I don't think she can beauty, the public mark of malice, next do less in honour: and if I was she, I to plungeing people into misery (as that should be overjoy'd to be hang'd upon barbarous Lord Castlecomare has done) such an occasion, for I think she has no the greatest piece of ill-nature is insulting farther busynesse in this world. them under it. Chiefly those ruin'd for I am sorry you can't go to Scoffton, for love, perhaps ensnar'd by vows and un- I pity the poor young woman's melaridone by too much credulity, I alwales choly there extremely, and know no compity the unhappy, without strictly looking pany more proper to chase it away than into their merit, however their misfor- that of my dear Nanny, who has a most tunes come; when they are unfortunate constant well-wisher in me. they deserve compassion : and 'tis my October 25. maxim never to ridicule the frailties of To Mrs. Anne Justice, York.

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You are very happy, dear Nanny, and all in readynesse, whip, there comes sone I'll swear I think you are very wise. impertinent visitor or another and puts People have uneasynesses enough in this all into confusion again.

So that you world that they can't help, and therefore must forgive me, that's the short on't. they ought to help all they can. I hope I am heartily sorry for the misfortunes Mrs. B. follows these prudent maxims, of Oroonoko, and hope he'll find as much and am glad to hear she is forgetting all mercy in the court of heaven as in the former disquiets. A new fire always court marshall. As to dresse, 'tis die fetches out an old one and one may vided into partys: all the high church learn that from a burnt finger-and, as ladies affect to wear heads in imitation you say, there is no medicine like it. I of the steeples, and on their muits roses stay in the country longer than I intenda exactly like those in the parsons' bats. On ed, for fear of that confounded distemper the other side, the low party (of which the small-pox, which happens to be next I declare my selfe) wear little low heads door to our house in London. I com- and long ribands to their muffs. This. mend you mightily, for not thinking of a full account of the important busynesse coming; for tho' this world is a ridicu- dress, which is at present much talk'd of Jous impertinent place, yet, as long as against the birth-night, where every body one lives in it, one must conform to the is endeav'ring to outshine the other. The humours of other people : and tho' I per- town is very full, and diversion more fole sist, and shall do to my dying day, in low'd than ever I knew it. I am invited asserting that perfect happynesse may be to a ball to-night. I believe I shall dance in this life, yet I hardly believe any body with some of the same company I did at has ever found it yet; but I commend Mrs. Banks's. Now we talk of Mrs. you, all wise people, inake the best of a Banks, pray does the match go on, or is. bad bargain; if one's gone, ne're keep a it only a false report? The best way to pother, get another, get another-'tis the make sure of an old lover, is certainly to. best advice in the world. I hope to see engage to a new one. I wish her exyou next summer, and then we'll talk over tremely well, as I dare say you do, and old storys again. I don't think you to hope next summer we shall sce her again. be much lamented for not comeing to I long mightily to see dear Nottinghamtown, (except you had some particular shire, and dear Nanny, who has a most reason for’t), for realy I have had expe- faithfull friend of me. rience of both, and if you'l take iny judg- To Mrs. Anne Justice, ut York. ment, was I to chuse for alwaies, I should prefer a country life, not out of a roinan. Let me die, my dear, and all that, if tick fancy, but pure reflection on which I have been so well pleas'd since I is happyest. Every body goes out of to London as with your two letters. 'Tis. mourning this Christmas, and the grand true, I'm often diverted, and sometimes affair of cloaths employs all the tongues pleas’d, but never happy. You know and fingers of womankind. When I'm these distinctions are just, tho' they may in London (if you desire it) you shall sound odly. Don't mistake me, child: have as exact an account as I can give pray love Mr. Crotchrode, lie has wit, of the dresse of the head, number of and a man of wit cannot be a villain. ribands, and cut of the manteau a la- I have sent you a knot by the Mansmode, tho' one milliner is worth ten of field carrier, and am your very humble me at those nicetys; lazynesse and carelessnesse makeing great part of my com

January pound; the first of these, at this minute, To Mrs. Justice, Scofton, Nottinghamshire. has so much power, as to make my pen drop out of my hand before I have told I have got a cursed cold, that lies so you how much I am your's.

consumedly in my head (I suppose you'l Direct your next to London, for 'tis to hear how I got it) I can't write such a be hop'd I shall be there by that time. letter as I wou'd do, if I had my eyes I Dec, 27.

wou'd write a better-take the will for To Mrs. Anne Justice, at York.

the deed


dear. I congratulate your

good fortune. Would to God, John I Hope, dear Nanny, you do not think may be as lucky to me.

You need not I forget you; but I'll swear this town is such fear I should forget Friday; though I a pluoe, and one is so hurry'd about, 'tis knock my head against the wall every with vast difficulty I can get pen, ink, time I think on't, and curse my stars, and paper; and perhaps when they are that never sends me an inclination with




out a disappointment. Well, I hope we Miss Justice there? He assur'd me he shall meet again at Scoffton—it can be did, and said a thousand pritty things of for no long tiine-half a day is very short; you. Good buy te'e my dear, I wish but however it is better than nothing, and you all the happynesse you wish yourthat will be soon.

selfe, and that you may be perfectly, perI don't mention your accident: you fectly so; and let people say what they may suppose I am sorry for your fright, will, that is possible. I am going to day and glad of your 'scape.

upon a pleasant expedition, and will give, 'Tis a cursed condition of humanity, an account of it in iny next. The muller we have long entire weeks to give to me

told the queen,

er majesty should be in lancholy, and so few fleeting minutes to great danger of drowning in December, pleasure.

whereat her majesty laugh'd very inuch, To Mrs. Justice, York.

and was pleas'd to call him a blockhead,

and say she shuuld never be in danger of KNOWING experimentally, my dear, drowning, because she should never trathe plague of sore eyes, I'm sure you will vel; but she has writ us word, that, gothink it sufficient excuse for not sooner ing to Nottingham, the chaise overiurn'd condoleing with you for the losse of your in a deep ditch full of water, and she mother, which I am truly and heartily very narrowly escap’d with her life, which sorry for, as I am for any thing that contirms us in the opinion of his being a gives you trouble. The greatest I have conjuror. I wish to God he was, for is the weaknesse of my siglit, which is then-you know. enough of all conscience. I have sat a good while in a dark room, and am in- You are a very generous friend, to deed not now in a condition of writing ; be as much pleased with Mrs. Banka's but could not be any longer without let- weilding as if it was your own; and I ting you hear from me. Diversions are am not lesse obliged to you for your none to me at my present; and my mi. kind wishes about the lottery. I wonder serable eyes take from me all the recrea- you don't think of puiting in yourselfe: tions of my life, both in company and a thousand pounds per annum is worth solitude. I wish you may be at Scoffton trying for, though the odds be never so some part of this summer, for I dare say great. Prithec do, my dear, imagine in we shall be in that country, and then I yourselfe, how agreeable a surprize 'iwill may have the pleasure of seeing you be to have so large an estate, to come to again, which you know will be much to London in your own coach and six horses, my satisfaction. I am afraid you'll harit- be the celebrated toast of the town, and ly be able to read this; but indeed I at last make some true lover happy, io hardly see what I write, and my eyes the utter disappointment of all fortunca water so, I must conclude; but I hope hunters, who would allmost stille you that won't hinder you from writing to me

with their troublesome assiduities. These soon, since 'tis none of my fault I did shining ideas, if I was in your place, not write sooner, or don't write inore now. would perswade me to venture a ticket August.

or two. My prospect is very different : To Mirs. Ann Justice, York.

if I win I intend to retire ont of the crud

am in; my particular pleasure would You see I follow my orders, and write be, in despising the censure of tools, aud what I have to say in a bit that may be shutting the doors upon three parts of burnt without questions. I am glad of my acquaintance, who should never see the happynesse of the couple you know, me afterwards. I would no longer visit but have malice enough to wish it de- the Dutchesse of Piddi faddle, for fear of ferd till we came to be witnesses : tho' being called rude, and go regularly to my I reckon my selte in part there since you Lady Tattle's visiting night, to avoid beare, and ain overjoy’d at your obliging ing the subject of her malice. In short, I promise of an account of all passages.

would shew all that sincerity so natural to You never was in the wrong in

me, and keep no company out of fear, but in one thing, and that is asking my nor cringe to detestable prudes to acquire pardon for a freedom that pleases and a reputation. I would live (you won't obliges me beyond all things. I hope believe it)- but I would live in the courie they are to live at Mr. Banks, and that try. I would have a little neat house, you'l stay all summer. I saw a very which nobody should enter that did not pritty northern gentleman t'other •day? in some degree enter into my heart too. he was talking in great commendations I would be always my own, or people's of York. I ask'd hiin if he knew one that I thought part of my selfe. This scene delights me; though I fear, like all in a few posts afterwards that I desire my other pleasing ideas, 'twill vanish into your company. You observe just, there air, and leave me, as I was, but still is no charm like liberty, and liberty is your's.




never in a croud; there is a vast, a solid Jan. 31.

pleasure, in having one's time at one's To Mrs.Justice Scoffion, Nottinghamshire. own disposal, and not to be ty'd up to

the forins that are more troublesome I am very glad you continue in your than servitude; a servant has nobody to beliefe that perfect happynesse is not (as please but his master; we thac live in the some wildly think it) a chimæra: tho' I world, have all the world--every creature never met any body told me they had it, is free to be both our judge and accuser. that does not deter iny pursuit of it, nay What a bappiness then to be out of the even hopes. The blessed lottery was hurry, to passe the days unheeded, withopen'd this day. There is a croud at out the malicious remarks of formal the Bank; there is no approaching with- prudes, or the insipid railleries of enin half a mile of it. Tlie Earl of Pem- vious coquettes. I infinitely approve your broke puts in three thousand pounds, generous resolution of making Mr. and all the world talks of nothing else; (for I suppose you mean him) happy. I so I suppose they all hope at least to add cannot suppose you so unfortunate as considerably to their happynesse, if not you fancy your selfe. Prithee try-wlio attain it, by that means. I write to Mrs. would not venture for eternal happyBanks this very day, so you'l see in her nesse ?-perfect happynesse-tho' Miss letter what reports I have heard concern- Banks will allow of no such thing. Pray ing her matrimony. The undertaking I ask her the question again, a week after spoke of (like most undertakings) was her wedding: I'll be hang'd it she does not half so pleasant in the action as in not look down and cry, she's perfectly the prospect;

it was much such another happy. 'Tis a strange cruelty in my as the miller's, but not half so satisfac- fortune, that I am not to be at that tory. The pretended fortune-teller was charming solemnity. If it was some so ignorant as to take my sister for the aukward disagreeable place, I'm sure I elder, and several other absurditys, which should be there, tho' I study'd all ways provok'd me to an utter contempt of all and means to avoid it. But destiny can. those creatures and their ridiculous pre- not be struggled with; and 'tis ht for me, dictions. My sister is very well reco- upon many occasions, to make use of the vered, and we go to the play to-night. admirable proverb, “Make the best of a Lord Chamberlain danced last night at bad bargain.” This consideration inakes Lady Hide's, where there was a vast deal me move up and down town, and endeaof company. You do nie wrong in fan- vour to make my life pass as tolerably as cying I should be weary of the length of I can. The Gazette, I suppose, has told your's; I'll assure you I think them the you of the magnificent bail of Count more obliging. The knots begin their Turucca : there was a great manny masa journey to-day; I'm afraid you have queraders-he two Mr. Molesworths was thought of them so long they won't an- some of the must galant there, one dress'd swer your expectations. Pray do ine the like a Dutch skipper, and the other in a favour to wear it at Miss Banks' wedding, suit trim'd with green and gold, and made if 'tis not yet over. I never think of the themselves very remarkable by their tine solemnity without wishing myselfe at it; dancing. But Mr. D'Arcie every way but I won't be so ill-natur'd to Mr. Vane excelled all the rest : he was like a shepto wish it delay'd till spring; thoʻI hope herd, but so shining with jewels, so neat, you'l stay till that time. I fancy we so lovely, he surpriz'd and charm'd every shall come down about.May: whenever body. Good buy te'e my dear-if the I do, all the diversions I leave here will bell did not ring I would write out my not give me so much regret, as the seeing paper, my agreeable country friends will pleasure. To Mrs. Justice, at Scoffton, Jan. 16.

To Mrs. Justice, at Scofflon,

You are very obliging, my dear. Of

all things I like your lover's letter, gay, You are infinitely obliging. I pretend kind, and airy, as you say he is in his conno value in my letters, but they come versation. People say he is very handfrom a heart very much devoted to your some; his stile shews he has wit and service. If you hear I have the lot (as gaiety. These are very fine charming I beseech lieaven I may) you will hear qualifications, but consider my dear


-’Ere your heart be quite resign'd, the tale. I hope she is well. I have Forget be's tair, and think upon his mind.

writ to her this post; but dill not tell her There is a question-Can a handsome you gave me the information, because ! well-bred young fellow be constant? did not positively know whether you'd You're a better judge of this than I am; care she should be told it or no. Sweet but by my truly I think there is a list of soul, your humble servant. more good qualitys than ever fell to one I would fill this side, but the post

bell mortals share; but it' any body can fix rings. the inconstant animal man, I will suppose To Mrs. Anne Justice, York. it in your power. I have been ready to hang my selfe, to

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. think I shan't be at Miss Banks' wedding, SIR,

THE would do in your case you know what Club*, for the best fat cattle, sheep I mean--put off your shoes and—write and pigs, were this year left to the decime the history of all the whole affair, sion of Mr. William Walker, of Woolswithout disguise, from the Yes pronoun- thorp, Lincolnshire; Mr. William Watced in church, to the soft No, which sig. kins, of Brinsop, Herefordshire; and Mr. nifies Yes, in the bedchamber. Lord, John Roper, of Potter's Pury, BuckingLord, what would I give to be with you, hamshire; who considered the following and rattle away a night or two, as to have improved the most in flesh and your lover says. Ha! my dear maid of fatness, for the quantity and kind of food honour, we'd dance, and talk, and sing, consumed by each respectively, when due and be as merry, it not so we!! pleas’d, allowance had been made for age, labour as the bride; the bride, and thereby hangs performed, and other circumstances, viz.


Beef. | Looie Hide & Head. Feet.

Fat. Horns.
lb. lb. ib. lb. 1b.




Mr. Samuel Chandler's pied Herefordshire Ox,

worked more than two years, and fed on hay, turnips, and oil-cakes Mr. Edward Anger's dark red Sussex Ox, worked

two years and three-quarters, and fed un hay and oil-cakes

13601 1461 122 56 28 Mr. Martin Webber's red, curled, Devonshire

Steer, worked three years, and fed on hay and oil-cakes

1130 120 91 35 21 Mr. Martin Webber's red wide-horned Devon

shire Ox, not worked, fed on hay and turnips (1152 195 96 35] 24 Mr. Samuel Chandler's dark red Herefordshire Ox, fed on grass and hay

1532 217 126 56 Mr. Samuel Brook's dark dun Scotch Ox, fed on grass and hay

760 108) 86 S1 20 Mr. John Westcar's dark red Herefordshire Cow, which had borne three calves

10001 1201 79 27 21






Mutton Loose Skis. Blood. Louanswe.ght
BC Head Fat.

&c. 4 live. Ib. lb.


Ib. lb




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Rev. Thomas Plaskett's three 1-year-old new 90

191 7 194 148 Leicester Wethers, (travelled 120 miles in 110 8119 9 17 16+ May last), fed on grass, cole, and cabbages (3 92 12 17| 41| 16

142 Mr. Thomas Moore's three 2-year-old new 1 151 174 183 55 151 208

Leicester Wethers, fed on grass, bay, and 2 147 144 204 6167205 turnips

3 139 134 1027 184 195 The Duke of Bedford's three 1-year-old (1 98 19 12

82 South-Down Wethers, fed on grass, hay, { 2 96 13

91 and turnips.

3 95 17

9 Mr. Henry King's, jun. three 2-year-olds

14 14


2 103 12 South-Down Wethers, fed on grass only

12 7

145 3 1109


121|158 * See a similar account last year, vol. xxv. p. 108.



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