The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

306 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
To Mrs. MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall
DEAR MARY JONES,
MISS Liddy is so good as to unclose me in a kiver as fur as Gloster,
and the carrier will bring it to hand—God send us all safe to
Monmouthshire, for I’m quite jaded with rambling—’Tis a true
saying, live and learn—O woman, what chuckling and changing
have I seen!—Well, there’s nothing sartain in this world—Who
would have thought that mistriss, after all the pains taken for the.
good of her prusias sole, would go for to throw away her poor body?
that she would cast the heys of infection upon such a carrying-
crow as Lashmihago! as old as Matthewsullin, as dry as a red
herring, and as pore as a starved veezel—O, Molly! hadst thou
seen him come down the ladder, in a shurt so scanty, that it could
not kiver his nakedness!—The young ’squire called him Dun-
quickset; but he looked for all the world like Cradoc-ap Morgan,
the ould tinker, that suffered at Abergany for steeling of kettle—
Then he’s a profane scuffle, and, as Mr. Clinker says, no better
than an impfiddle, continually playing upon the pyebill and the
new-burth—I doubt he has as little manners as money; for he
can’t say a civil word, much more make me a present of a pair of
gloves for good-will; but he looks as if he wanted to be very fore-
wood and familiar—O! that ever a gentlewoman of years and dis-
cretion should tare her air, and cry and disporridge herself for such
a nubjack! as the song goes—
I vow she wou’d fain have a burd
That bids such a price for an owl.
but, for sartain, he must have dealt with some Scotch musician to
bring her to this pass—As for me, I put my trust in the Lord; and
I have got a slice of witch elm sowed in the gathers of my under
petticoat; and Mr. Clinker assures me, that by the new light of
grease, I may deify the devil and all his works—But I nose what
I nose—If mistress should take up with Lashmyhago, this is no
sarvice for me—Thank God, there’s no want of places; and if it
wan’t for wan thing, I would—but, no matter—Madam Baynar’s
woman has twenty good pounds a-year and parquisites; and dresses
like a parson of distinkson—I dined with her and the valley de
shambles, with bags and golden jackets; but there was nothing