If rewards even in this world attend the virtuous, who would be depraved?—Could the loose, the abandon’d, look in on this happy mansion, how would their sensual appetites be pall’d!—How would they hate,—how detest the vanity,—the folly that leads to vice!—If pleasure is their pursuit, here they might see it speaking at mouth and eyes:—pleasures that fleet not away;—pleasures that are carried beyond the grave.
What a family is this to take a wife from!—Lord Darcey’s happiness is insur’d:—in my conscience, there will not be such another couple in England.
Preparations are making to welcome the lovely successor of this ancient house;—preparations to rejoice those whose satisfactions are scanty,—to clothe the naked,—to feed the hungry,—to let the stately roof echo with songs and mirth from a croud of chearful, honest, old tenants.
I often hear Mrs. Jenkings crying out in extasy,—My angel!—my sweet angel!—As to the old gentleman and Edmund, they actually cannot refrain from tears, when Miss Powis’s name is mention’d.—Sir James and her Ladyship are never easy without these good folks.—It has ever been an observation of mine, that at an unexpected fortunate event, we are fond of having people about us who feel on the same passion.
Mr. Morgan is quite his own man again:—he has been regaling himself with a fine hunt, whilst I attended Sir James and my Lady in an airing round the park.—After dinner we were acquainted with all his losses and crosses in the dog and horse way.—He had not seen Filley rubb’d down this fortnight:—the huntsman had lost three of his best hounds:—two spaniels were lame;—and one of his running horses glander’d.—He concluded with swearing, as things turn’d out, he did not matter it much;—but had it happen’d three weeks since; he should have drove all his servants to the devil.—Enough of Mr. Morgan.—Adieu, Molesworth!—Forget not my congratulations to your noble, happy, friend.
The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH
to RICHARD RISBY, Esq;
All is happiness, Dick!—I see nothing else; I hear of nothing else.—It is the last thing I take leave of at night;—the first thing I meet in the morning.—Yesterday was full of it!—yesterday I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Powis and their charming daughter, at the Banker’s.—To look back, it seems as if I had gone through all the vexations of my life in the last three weeks.
Darcey would not let me rest ’till I had been to congratulate them, or rather to satisfy his own impatience, being distracted to hear how Miss Powis bore the great discovery.—Her fortitude is amazing!—But Sir James has had every particular from his son, therefore I shall be too late on that subject.
The following short epistle I receiv’d from Mr. Powis, as I was setting off for Town.