The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

42 TOBIAS SMOLLETT
ceremony to her chair. The captain, I believe, would have done me
the same favour; but my brother, seeing him advance, took me under
his arm, and wished him good-night. The Captain is a pretty man,
to be sure; tall and strait, and well made; with light-grey eyes, and
a Roman nose; but there is a certain boldness in his look and man-
ner, that puts one out of countenance—But I am afraid I have put
you out of all patience with this long unconnected scrawl; which
I shall therefore conclude, with assuring you, that neither Bath nor
London, nor all the diversions of life, shall ever be able to efface
the idea of my dear Letty, from the heart of her ever affectionate
LYDIA MELFORD
To Mrs. MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall
DEAR MOLLY JONES,
HEAVING got a frank, I now return your fever, which I received
by Mr. Higgins, at the Hot Well, together with the stockings, which
his wife footed for me; but now they are of no survice. No body
wears such things in this place—O Molly! you that live in the
country have no deception of our doings at Bath. Here is such dress-
ing, and fidling, and dancing, and gadding, and courting, and
plotting—O gracious! if God had not given me a good stock of dis-
cretion, what a power of things might not I reveal, consarning old
mistress and young mistress; Jews with beards, that were no Jews;
but handsome Christians, without a hair upon their sin, strolling
with spectacles, to get speech of Miss Liddy. But she’s a dear
sweet soul, as innocent as the child unborn. She has tould me all
her inward thoughts, and disclosed her passion for Mr. Wilson;
and that’s not his name neither; and thof he acted among the
player-men, he is meat for their masters; and she has gi’en me her
yallow trollopea; which Mrs. Drab, the manty-maker, says will
look very well when it is scowred and smoaked with silfur—You
knows as how, yallow fitts my fizzogmony. God he knows what
havock I shall make among the mail sex, when I make my first
appearance in this killing collar, with a full soot of gaze, as good
as new, that I bought last Friday of madam Friponeau, the French
mullaner—Dear girl, I have seen all the fine shews of Bath; the
Prades, the Squires, and the Circlis, the Crashit, the Hottogon,