--He mention'd something of past
times, hinting he should not always have courted him to _such_ honour,
presenting the hand of his belov'd.
I wish I could send you her look at that moment; it was all love,--all
condescension.--I say I cannot send it.--Mortifying! I cannot even
borrow _it_.
Adieu, dear Madam!--Adieu, dear Sir!--Adieu, you best of parents--It is
impossible to say which is most dear to your ever dutiful and
affectionate
E. DELVES.
LETTER XLIV.
Miss DELVES to the same.
_Barford Abbey_.
Lost my heart _again!_--Be not surpriz'd, Madam; I lose and find it ten
times a day;--yet it never strays from Barford Abbey.--The last account
you had from me it was button'd inside Mr. Morgan's
hunting-frock:--since that, it has been God knows with whom:--sometimes
wrapt in a red coat;--sometimes in a blue;--sometimes in a green:--but
finding many competitors flew to black, where it now lies snug, warm,
and easy.--Restless creature! I will never take it home again.
What think you, Madam, of a _Dean_ for a son-in-law?
What do I think? you say.--Why the gentlemen of the church have too much
sense and gravity to take my madcap off my hands.
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