This sounds like a good one, and therefore I will not tell you my solution; for, if it is wrong, it might lead you astray; and if it is right, it would prove the charade is not a good one. Had I any thing better, I would not send you charades, unless for the name of the author.
I have had a letter from your brother, who tells me that he has his grandson Stewart(578) with him, who is a prodigy. I say to myself, Prodigies are grown so frequent, That they have lost their name. I have seen prodigies in plenty of late, ah, and formerly too; but, divine as they have all been, each has had a mortal heel, and has trodden back a vast deal of their celestial path 1 1 beg to be excused from any more credulity.
I am sorry you have lost your fac-totum Stokes. I suppose he had discovered that he was too necessary to you. Every day cures one of reliance on others; And we acquire a prodigious stock of experience, by the time that we shall cease to have occasion for any. Well! I am not clear but making or solving charades is as wise as any thing we can do. I should pardon professed philosophers if they would allow that their wisdom is only trifling, instead of calling their trifling wisdom. Adieu!
(578) Robert, eldest son of Robert Stewart, by Lady Sarah-Frances Seymour, second daughter of Francis, first Marquis of Hertford; afterwards so distinguished in the Political world as Viscount Castlereagh. In 1821, he succeeded his father as second Marquis of Londonderry, and died at his seat at North Cray, in August, 1822; at which time he was secretary of state for foreign affairs.-E.
To my extreme surprise, Madam, when I knew not in what quarter of the known or unknown world you was resident or existent, my maid in Berkeley-square sent me to Strawberry-hill a note from your ladyship, offering to call on me for a moment,-for a whirlwind, I suppose, was waiting at your door to carry you to Japan; and, as balloons have not yet settled any post-offices in the air, you could not, at least did not, give me any direction where to address you, though you did kindly reproach me with my silence. I must enter into a little justification before I proceed. I heard from you from Venice, then from Poland, and then, having whisked through Tartary, from Petersburgh; but still with no directions. I said to myself, “I will write to Grand Cairo, which, probably, will be her next stage.” Nor was I totally in the wrong, for there came a letter from Constantinople, with a design mentioned of going to the Greek islands, and orders to write to you at Vienna; but with no banker or other address specified.