knows, their conversation will be void of offence; and, at the day of judgment, there will be no distinction of persons.’

Humphry going down stairs to fetch up a bottle of wine, my uncle congratulated his sister upon having such a reformer in the family; when Mrs. Tabitha declared, he was a sober civilized fellow; very respectful, and very industrious; and, she believed, a good Christian into the bargain. One would think, Clinker must really have some very extraordinary talent, to ingratiate himself in this manner with a virago of her character, so fortified against him with prejudice and resentment; but the truth is, since the adventure of Salt-hill, Mrs. Tabby seems to be entirely changed. She has left off scolding the servants, an exercise which was grown habitual, and even seemed necessary to her constitution; and is become so indifferent to Chowder, as to part with him in a present to lady Griskin, who proposes to bring the breed of him into fashion. Her ladyship is the widow of sir Timothy Griskin, a distance relation of our family. She enjoys a jointure of five hundred pounds a year, and makes shift to spend three times that sum. Her character before marriage was a little equivocal; but at present she lives in the bon ton, keeps card-tables, gives private suppers to select friends, and is visited by persons of the first fashion. She has been remarkably civil to us all, and cultivates my uncle with the most particular regard; but the more she strokes him, the more his bristles seem to rise. To her compliments he makes very laconic and dry returns. T’other day, she sent us a pottle of fine strawberries, which he did not receive without signs of disgust, muttering from the Aeneid, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. She has twice called for Liddy, of a forenoon, to take an airing in the coach; but Mrs. Tabby was always so alert (I suppose by his direction) that she never could have the niece without her aunt’s company. I have endeavoured to sound Square-toes on this subject; but he carefully avoids all explanation.

I have now, dear Phillips, filled a whole sheet; and if you have read it to an end, I dare say you are as tired as

Your humble servant
J. MELFORD.