the printer himself, and which he, the said Doctor, should chastise.  Dodsley, after notifying this new and unprovoked insolence to me, Fox, and Garrick, the one friend of Sir Charles, the other of Brown, returned a very proper, decent, yet firm answer, with assurances of repaying chastisement of any sort.  Is it credible? this audacious man sent only a card back, saying, “Footman’s language I never return, J. Brown.”  You know how decent, humble, inoffensive a creature Dodsley is; how little apt to forget or disguise his having been a footman! but there is no exaggerating this behaviour by reflections.  On the same card he tells Dodsley that he cannot now accept, but returns his present of the two last volumes of his collection of poems, and assures him that they are not soiled by the reading.  But the best picture of him is his own second volume, which beats all the Scaligers and Scioppins’s for vanity and insolent impertinence.  What is delightful; in the first volume he had deified Warburton, but the success of that trumpery has made Warburton jealous, and occasioned a coolness—­but enough of this jackanapes.

Your brother has been here, and as he is to go to-morrow, and the pedigree is not quite finished, and as you will be impatient, and as it is impossible for us to transcribe Welsh which we cannot read without your assistance, who don’t understand it neither, we have determined that the Colonel should carry the pedigree to you; you will examine it and bring it with you to Strawberry, where it can be finished under your own eye, better than it is possible to do without.  Adieu!  I have not writ so long a letter this age.

(887) Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough.

(888) Estimate of the Manners of the Times.  See ant`e, p. 232, letter 119.-E.

422 Letter 261 To Sir Horace Mann.  Arlington Street, May 31, 1758.

This is rather a letter of thanks than of course, though I have received, I verily believe, three from you since my last.  Well, then, this is to thank you for them too—­chiefly for that of to-day, with the account of the medals you have purchased for me from Stosch, and those your own munificence bestows on me.  I am ashamed to receive the latter; I must positively know what you paid for the former; and beg they may all be reserved till a very safe opportunity.  The price for the Ganymede is so monstrous that I must not regret not having it—­yet if ever he should lower, I should still have a hankering, as it is one of the finest medals I ever saw.  Are any of the others in silver? old Stosch had them so.  When any of the other things I mentioned descend to more mortal rates, I would be sorry to lose them.