Chapter XLVIII: 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.