Chapter CI: 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.