You know how glad I am to catch at a pretence for not writing; my
present one is the uselessness of it when we are so soon to meet; and
as your friend John Buncle[189] says, we can talk the value of a good
octavo volume in the course of a morning. I still however hang on
the good pleasure of the Lord of Boroughs, but he now seems to hint
that another week will wind up his stay in town; if so, a fortnight
will do my business, and I shall hope to be at Bath about the 15th of
next month. I am much obliged to you for your kind offer of coming
down immediately, and should with pleasure accept of it, were I not
detained here by some things that I wish to finish, and for which my
Library is absolutely requisite; laugh at the bookworm if you please,
but excuse the nature of the animal. As to poor d'Eyverdun he is not
his own master, or you would most assuredly see him. He is now at
York with his Lord; but I hope to catch a sight of him before I leave
London, and he England. The Eliots testify a strong inclination to
see us in Cornwall, a passionate one indeed. I hope we shall like one
another, but I could wish Mrs. Bonnefoy[190] were of the party. We
are huge friends. Adieu.
Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
[189] Thomas Amory, into whom, says Hazlitt, "the soul of
Rabelais passed," published (1756-66) _The Life of John Buncle,
Esq._--a curious book, which is in part autobiographical.
[190] Miss Anne Eliot, sister to Mr. Eliot, of Port Eliot,
married Captain Hugh Bonfoy, R.N. Two portraits of her by Sir
Joshua Reynolds are in existence--one painted in 1746, the other
in 1754.
174.
_To J. B. Holroyd, Esq., at Edinburgh._
Bentinck Street, Aug. 7th, 1773.