I have thought of you often when I heard things that would entertain
you, and thought I had collected a great store, but when I rummage in my
head, for want of having had, or taken time to keep the drawers of my
cabinet of memory tidy, I cannot find one single thing that I want,
except that it is said that plants raised from cuttings do not bear such
fine flowers as those raised from seeds.--That a lady, whose parrot had
lost all its feathers, made him a flannel jacket. . . . I will bring a
specimen of the silk spun by the _Processionaires_, of whom my aunt gave
you the history. There is a cock here who is as great a tyrant in his
own way as Buonaparte, and a poor Barbary cock who has no claws, has the
misfortune to live in the same yard with him; he will not suffer this
poor defenceless fellow to touch a morsel or grain of all the good
things Margaret throws to them till he and all his protégées are
satisfied.
_To_ MISS RUXTON.