You find, Mamma, what a charming way he hath of Writing, and yet I
assure you, that is not the most charming thing belonging to him:
For, tho' he doth not put any Dears, and Sweets, and Loves into his
Letters, yet he says a thousand of them: For he can be as fond of a
Woman, as any Man living.
_Sure Women are great Fools, when they prefer a laced Coat to the
Clergy, whom it is our Duty to honour and respect._
Well, on _Sunday_ Parson _Williams_ came, according to his Promise,
and an excellent Sermon he preached; his Text was, _Be not Righteous
over much_; and, indeed, he handled it in a very fine way; he shewed
us that the Bible doth not require too much Goodness of us, and that
People very often call things Goodness that are not so. That to go to
Church, and to pray, and to sing Psalms, and to honour the Clergy,
and to repent, is true Religion; and 'tis not doing good to one
another, for that is one of the greatest Sins we can commit, when we
don't do it for the sake of Religion. That those People who talk of
Vartue and Morality, are the wickedest of all Persons. That 'tis not
what we do, but what we believe, that must save us, and a great many
other good Things; I wish I could remember them all.
As soon as Church was over, he came to the Squire's House, and drank
Tea with Mrs. _Jewkes_ and me; after which Mrs. _Jewkes_ went out and
left us together for an Hour and half--Oh! he is a charming Man.
After Supper he went Home, and then Mrs. _Jewkes_ began to catechize
me, about my Familiarity with him. I see she wants him herself. Then
she proceeded to tell me what an Honour my Master did me in liking
me, and that it was both an inexcusable Folly and Pride in me, to
pretend to refuse him any Favour. Pray, Madam, says I, consider I am
a poor Girl, and have nothing but my Modesty to trust to. If I part
with that, what will become of me. Methinks, says she, you are not so
mighty modest when you are with Parson _Williams_; I have observed
you gloat at one another, in a Manner that hath made me blush. I
assure you, I shall let the Squire know what sort of Man he is; you
may do your Will, says I, as long as he hath a Vote for
Pallamant-Men, the Squire dares do nothing to offend him; and you
will only shew that you are jealous of him, and that's all. How now,
Mynx, says she; Mynx! No more Mynx than yourself, says I; with that
she hit me a Slap on the Shoulder; and I flew at her and scratched
her Face, i'cod, 'till she went crying out of the Room; so no more at
present, from
_Your Dutiful Daughter_,