Dec. 14, 1719, Nine at night.
SIR,
It is impossible to know by your letter whether the wine is to be bottled
to-morrow, or no.
If it be, or be not, why did not you in plain English tell us so?
For my part, it was by mere chance I came to sit with the ladies[2] this
night.
And if they had not told me there was a letter from you; and your man
Alexander had not gone, and come back from the deanery; and the boy here
had not been sent, to let Alexander know I was here, I should have missed
the letter outright.
Truly I don't know who's bound to be sending for corks to stop your
bottles, with a vengeance.
Make a page of your own age, and send your man Alexander to buy corks;
for Saunders already has gone above ten jaunts.
Mrs. Dingley and Mrs. Johnson say, truly they don't care for your wife's
company, though they like your wine; but they had rather have it at their
own house to drink in quiet.
However, they own it is very civil in Mrs. Sheridan to make the offer;
and they cannot deny it.
I wish Alexander safe at St. Catherine's to-night, with all my heart and
soul, upon my word and honour:
But I think it base in you to send a poor fellow out so late at this time
of year, when one would not turn out a dog that one valued; I appeal to
your friend Mr. Connor.
I would present my humble service to my Lady Mountcashel; but truly I
thought she would have made advances to have been acquainted with me, as
she pretended.
But now I can write no more, for you see plainly my paper is ended.