as I hinted to you upon a former occasion, I am as mulish as most men are, and have hitherto most ungallantly refused; but what is to be done now?—­If it were uncivil not to comply with the solicitations of one lady, to be unmoved by the solicitations of two would prove me to be a bear indeed.  I will, therefore, summon him to consideration of said stomach, and its ailments, without delay, and you shall know the result.—­I have read Goldsmith’s Traveller and his Deserted Village, and am highly pleased with them both, as well for the manner in which they are executed, as for their tendency, and the lessons that they inculcate.

Mrs. Unwin said to me a few nights since, after supper, ’I have two fine fowls in feeding, and just fit for use; I wonder whether I should send them to Lady Hesketh?’ I replied, Yes, by all means! and I will tell you a story that will at once convince you of the propriety of doing so.  My brother was curate on a time to Mr. Fawkes, of Orpington, in Kent:  it was when I lived in the Temple.  One morning, as I was reading by the fireside, I heard a prodigious lumbering at the door.  I opened it, and beheld a most rural figure, with very dirty boots, and a great coat as dirty.  Supposing that my great fame as a barrister had drawn upon me a client from some remote region, I desired him to walk in.  He did so, and introduced himself to my acquaintance by telling me that he was the farmer with whom my brother lodged at Orpington.  After this preliminary information he unbuttoned his great coat, and I observed a quantity of long feathers projected from an inside pocket.  He thrust in his hand, and with great difficulty extricated a great fat capon.  He then proceeded to lighten the other side of him, by dragging out just such another, and begged my acceptance of both.  I sent them to a tavern, where they were dressed, and I with two or three friends, whom I invited to the feast, found them incomparably better than any fowls we had ever tasted from the London co-ops.  Now, said I to Mrs. Unwin, it is likely that the fowls at Olney may be as good as the fowls at Orpington, therefore send them; for it is not possible to make so good a use of them in any other way ...  Adieu, my faithful, kind, and consolatory friend!

TO THE SAME

Arrival of the desk

7 Dec. 1785.

My dear cousin,

At this time last night I was writing to you, and now I am writing to you again ...  My dear, you say not a word about the desk in your last, which I received this morning.  I infer from your silence that you supposed it either at Olney or on its way thither, and that you expected nothing so much as that my next would inform you of its safe arrival;—­therefore, where can it possibly be?  I am not absolutely in despair about it, for the reasons that I mentioned last night; but to say the truth, I stand tottering upon the verge of it.  I write, and have written