Heaving got a frank, I now return your fever, which I received by Mr
Higgins, at the Hot Well, together with the stockings, which his wife
footed for me; but now they are of no survice. No body wears such things
in this place--O Molly! you that live in the country have no deception
of our doings at Bath. Here is such dressing, and fidling, and dancing,
and gadding, and courting and plotting--O gracious! if God had not
given me a good stock of discretion, what a power of things might not
I reveal, consarning old mistress and young mistress; Jews with beards
that were no Jews; but handsome Christians, without a hair upon their
sin, strolling with spectacles, to get speech of Miss Liddy. But she’s
a dear sweet soul, as innocent as the child unborn. She has tould me all
her inward thoughts, and disclosed her passion for Mr Wilson; and that’s
not his name neither; and thof he acted among the player-men, he is meat
for their masters; and she has gi’en me her yallow trollopea; which Mrs
Drab, the mantymaker, says will look very well when it is scowred and
smoaked with silfur--You knows as how, yallow fitts my fizzogmony. God
he knows what havock I shall make among the mail sex, when I make my
first appearance in this killing collar, with a full soot of gaze, as
good as new, that I bought last Friday of madam Friponeau, the French
mullaner--Dear girl, I have seen all the fine shews of Bath; the Prades,
the Squires, and the Circlis, the Crashit, the Hottogon, and Bloody
Buildings, and Harry King’s row; and I have been twice in the Bath with
mistress, and na’r a smoak upon our backs, hussy. The first time I was
mortally afraid, and flustered all day; and afterwards made believe that
I had got the heddick; but mistress said, if I didn’t go I should take
a dose of bumtaffy; and so remembering how it worked Mrs Gwyllim a
pennorth, I chose rather to go again with her into the Bath, and then I
met with an axident. I dropt my petticoat, and could not get it up from
the bottom.--But what did that signify; they mought laff but they could
see nothing; for I was up to the sin in water. To be sure, it threw me
into such a gumbustion, that I know not what I said, nor what I did, nor
how they got me out, and rapt me in a blanket--Mrs Tabitha scoulded a
little when we got home; but she knows as I know what’s what Ah Laud
help you!--There is Sir Yury Micligut, of Balnaclinch, in the cunty of
Kalloway--I took down the name from his gentleman, Mr 0 Frizzle, and he
has got an estate of fifteen hundred a year--I am sure he is both rich
and generous--But you nose, Molly, I was always famous for keeping
secrets; and so he was very safe in trusting me with his flegm for
mistress; which, to be sure is very honourable; for Mr O Frizzle assures
me, he values not her portion a brass varthing--And, indeed, what’s poor
ten thousand pounds to a Baron Knight of his fortune? and, truly, I told
Mr 0 Frizzle that was all she had trust to--As for John Thomas, he’s
a morass fellor--I vow, I thought he would a fit with Mr 0 Frizzle,
because he axed me to dance with him at Spring Garden--But God he knows
I have no thoughts eyther of wan or t’other.
As for house news, the worst is, Chowder has fallen off greatly from
his stomick--He eats nothing but white meats, and not much of that;
and wheezes, and seems to be much bloated. The doctors think he
is threatened with a dropsy--Parson Marrofat, who has got the same
disorder, finds great benefit from the waters; but Chowder seems to like
them no better than the squire; and mistress says, if his case don’t
take a favourable turn, she will sartinly carry him to Aberga’ny, to
drink goat’s whey--To be sure, the poor dear honymil is lost for want of
axercise; for which reason, she intends to give him an airing once a-day
upon the Downs, in a post-chaise--I have already made very creditable
connexions in this here place; where, to be sure, we have the very
squintasense of satiety--Mrs Patcher, my lady Kilmacullock’s woman, and
I are sworn sisters. She has shewn me all her secrets, and learned me to
wash gaze, and refrash rusty silks and bumbeseens, by boiling them with
winegar, chamberlye, and stale beer. My short sack and apron luck as
good as new from the shop, and my pumpydoor as fresh as a rose, by
the help of turtle-water--But this is all Greek and Latten to you,
Molly--If we should come to Aberga’ny, you’ll be within a day’s ride of
us; and then we shall see wan another, please God--If not, remember
me in your prayers, as I shall do by you in mine; and take care of my
kitten, and give my kind sarvice to Sall; and this is all at present,
from your beloved friend and sarvent,
W. JENKINS BATH, April 26.
To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall.
I am astonished that Dr Lewis should take upon him to give away
Alderney, without my privity and concurrants--What signifies my
brother’s order? My brother is little better than Noncompush. He would
give away the shirt off his back, and the teeth out of his head; nay, as
for that matter; he would have ruinated the family with his ridiculous
charities, if it had not been for my four quarters--What between his
willfullness and his waste, his trumps, and his frenzy, I lead the life
of an indented slave. Alderney gave four gallons a-day, ever since the
calf was sent to market. There is so much milk out of my dairy, and the
press must stand still: but I won’t loose a cheese pairing; and the milk
shall be made good, if the sarvents should go without butter. If they
must needs have butter, let them make it of sheep’s milk; but then my
wool will suffer for want of grace; so that I must be a loser on all
sides. Well, patience is like a stout Welsh poney; it bears a great
deal, and trots a great way; but it will tire at the long run. Before
its long, perhaps I may shew Matt, that I was not born to be the
household drudge to my dying day--Gwyn rites from Crickhowel, that the
price of flannel is fallen three-farthings an ell; and that’s another
good penny out of my pocket. When I go to market to sell, my commodity
stinks; but when I want to buy the commonest thing, the owner pricks
it up under my nose; and it can’t be had for love nor money--I think
everything runs cross at Brambleton-hall--You say the gander has broke
the eggs; which is a phinumenon I don’t understand: for when the fox
carried off the old goose last year, he took her place, and hatched the
eggs, and partected the goslings like a tender parent--Then you tell me
the thunder has soured two barrels of beer in the seller. But how the
thunder should get there, when the seller was double-locked, I can’t
comprehend. Howsomever, I won’t have the beer thrown out, till I see it
with my own eyes. Perhaps, it will recover--At least it will serve for
vinegar to the servants.--You may leave off the fires in my brother’s
chamber and mine, as it is unsartain when we return.--I hope, Gwyllim,
you’ll take care there is no waste; and have an eye to the maids, and
keep them to their spinning. I think they may go very well without beer
in hot weather--it serves only to inflame the blood, and set them
a-gog after the men. Water will make them fair and keep them cool and
tamperit. Don’t forget to put up in the portmantel, that cums with
Williams, along with my riding-habit, hat, and feather, the viol of purl
water, and the tincktur for my stomach; being as how I am much troubled
with flutterencies. This is all at present, from
Yours, TABITHA BRAMBLE BATH, April 26.
To Dr LEWIS.