And I must be nimble, You fee I won't stop, LETTER CV.. STELLA. WH Dr SWIFT to Dr SHERIDAN. Dublin, Dec. 22. 1722. Hat care we, whether you fwim or fink? Is this a time to talk of boats, or a time to fail in them, when I am fhuddering? or a time to build boat-houses, or pay for carriage? No; but towards fummer, I promife hereby under my hand to fubfcribe a (guinea*) fhilling for one; or, if you please me, what is blotted out, or fomething thereabouts; and the ladies fhall fubfcribe three thirteens betwixt them, and Mrs Brent. a penny, and Robert and Archy halfpence a-piece, and the old man and woman a farthing each : in fhort, I will be your collector, and we will send it down full of wine, a fortnight before we go at Whitfuntide. You will make eight thousand blunders in your planting; and who can help it? for I cannot be with you. My horfes eat hay, and I hold my vifitation on January 7. juft in the midft of Christmas. Mrs. Brent is angry, and fwears as much as a fanatic can do, that she will fubfcribe fixpence to your boat. I fhall be a country-man when you are not. now at Mr Fad's, with Dan and Sam; and I while they are at cards, like a lover writing to his miftefs.- -We have no news in our town. The ladies have left us today; and I promised them, that you -Well, We are steal out would The word guinea is ftruck thro' with a pen in the copy. would carry your club to Arfellagh, when you are weary of one another. You exprefs your happiness with grief in one hand, and forrow in the other. What fowl have you but the weep? what hares, but Mrs Mackfeden's grey hairs? what peafe but your own? Your mutton and your weather are both very bad, and fo is your weather mutton. Wild fowl is what we like. How will this letter get to you?A fortnight good from this morning. You will find Quilca not the thing it was last Auguft; no body to relish the lake; no body to ride over the downs; no trout to be caught; no dining over a well; no night heroics, no morning-epics; no ftolen hour when the wife is gone; no creature to call you names. Poor miferable Mr Sheridan! No blind harpers! no journeys to Rantavan! Answer all this, and be my magnus Apollo. We have new plays and new libels, and nothing valuable is old but Stella, whose bones fhe recommends to you. Dan defires to know whether you faw the advertisement of your being robbed.. -And fo I conclude, * Yours, &c.! N° Clonfert, Aug. 3. 1723. [O; I cannot poffibly be with you fo foon; there are too many rivers, bogs, and mountains between befides, when I leave this, I fhall make one or two short vifits in my way to Dublin, and hope to be in town by the end of this month; tho' it will be a bad time, in the hurry of your loufy p ―t. Your dream is wrong; for this bishop is not able to lift a cat upon my shoulders. But if you are for a curacy of twenty-five pounds a-year, and ride five miles ever Sunday, to preach to fix beggars, have at you. An yet The Reverend Mr Dan Jackson. Dr Theophilus Bolton, afterwards Bifhop of Elphin, and Archbishop of Cafhel. yet this is no ill country; and the bishop has made in four months twelve miles of ditches, from his house to the Shannon, if you talk of improving. How are you this moment? Do you love or hate Quilca the most of all places? Are you in or out of humour with the world, your friends, your wife, and your school? Are the ladies in town or in the country? If I knew, I would write to them, and how are they in health? Quilca (let me fee) (you fee I can (if I please) make parentheses as well as others) is about a hundred miles from Clonfert; and I am half weary with the four hundred I have rode. With love and service, and so adieu. LETTER Yours, &c. CVII.* Dr SWIFT to Dr SHERIDAN. Jan. 25. 1725. I Have a packet of letters, which I intended to fend by Molly, who hath been ftopt three days by the bad weather; but now I will fend them by the poft tomorrow to Kells, and inclosed to Mr Tickell +; there is one to you, and one to James Stopford. I can do no work this terrible weather; which hath put us all feventy times out of patience. I have been deaf nine days, and am now pretty well recovered again: Pray defire Mr Stanton and Worral ||, to continue giving themselves fome trouble with Mr Prat **; but let it fucceed or not, I hope I fhall be easy. Mrs Johnson fwears it will rain till Michaelmas. She is so pleased with her pick-ax, that she wears it faftened to her girdle on her left fide, in balance with her watch. The lake is ftrangely overflown, and we are desperate about turf, being forced to buy it three miles off: and Mrs This feems to be written from Quilca. + Thomas Tickell, Efq; a very ingenious poct, fecretary to the Lord Juftices of Ireland. Dr Stanton, a Master in chancery. Reverend Mr John Worral, the Dean's vicar. Mrs Johnfon (God help her) gives you many a curse. Your mafon is come, but cannot yet work upon your garden. Neither can I agree with him about the great wall. For the reft, vide the letter you will have on. Monday, if Mr Tickell ufes you well. THE news of this country is, that the maid you fent down, John Farelly's fifter, is married; but the portion and fettlement are yet a fecret. The cows here never give milk on Midfummer-eve *. You would wonder, what carking and caring there is among us for small beer, and lean mutton, and ftarved lamb, and ftopping gaps, and driving cattle from the corn. In that we are all-to-be-Dingleyed. THE ladies room fmokes; the rain drops from the fkies into the kitchen; our fervants eat and drink like the devil, and pray for rain, which entertains them at cards and fleep; which are much lighter than fpades, fledges, and crows. Their maxim is, Eat like a Turk, Sleep like a dormouse; At victuals foremoft. Which is all at prefent; hoping you and your good fa mily are well, as we, &c. are all at this prefent wri ting, &c. ROBIN has juft carried out a load of bread and cold meat for breakfast.. This is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off. I write on till Molly comes in for the letter. O, what a draggle-tail will the be before she gets to Dublin! I with the may not happen to fall upon her back by the way. I affirm against Ariftotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes; for they gather together you and your crew, at whift, punch, and claret. Happy weather fd Mrs Mau, Betty, and Stopford, and all true lovers cards and laziness. The Being the time maids go out to try pranks about their sweet hearts. Hawkef¿ The bleffings of a country-life. Far from our debtors, No Dublin letters, Not feen by our betters. The plagues of a country-life. A companion with news,' Molly fends for the letter. You Quilca, June 28. 1725. OU run out of your time fo merrily, that you are forced to anticipate it, like a young heir, that fpends his fortune fafter than it comes in for your letter is dated to-morrow, June 29. and God knows when it was writ, or what Saturday you mean: but I fuppofe it is the next; and therefore your own mare, and Dr Swift's horfe or mare, or fome other horfe or mare, with your own mare aforefaid, fhall fet out on Wednesday next, which will be June 30. and fo they will have two nights reft, if you begin your journey on Saturday. You are an unlucky devil, to get a living the furtheft in the kgdom from Quilca*. If it be worth two hundred pond a-year, my Lord Lieutenant hath but barely kept his |