suppose you would, ask it as a favour. I will take care to have everything ready at the Angel at three o'clock on Wednesday; Cox, and all will be pleased with waiting upon you. I shall be there on Tuesday evening, so that you may give me a line there by Monday night's post, if you have then determined upon Wednesday morning's route, that I may a ride to meet you, and lead you into Oxford.

take

O, how pleasant is all this preparation, precision, and minuteness; and how it sets me agog to see you all! But, sir,—but, sir, I do not know what you mean by your calumnious insinuations against that dear innocent lady, your first cousin. I will take my Bible-oath with his Royal Highness, that she never calumniated you. I could give you a good extract from a letter I have just now received from an eye and ear-witness to his Royal Highness's eldest brother's hunting the other day, upon Maidenhead Thicket; but that will keep-No, sir; but upon that settee,-upon that writing-table,-upon that window, have not things lain quæque ipse miserrima vidi,—not legi? as the poor sombre triste rêveur says. This was the calumny. You made the libel against yourself.

Somebody has been talking to Brother Barry, I see, by the colour of his letter; for he begins with accusing me of not letting him know where I was going when I left town; as if he wanted to be informed that a line left for the Snail at Matson, would not find him if he was not gone underground. But

it is like the simple excuses which people make, whose pride and idleness will not let them put pen to paper. If they cannot say the cleverest things in the world, they will say nothing at all; and, by and by, are found to say very awkward things. If that good lady, whom you falsely accused of calumny, can kiss a cherub child, I wish you would kiss Brother Barry's baby for me, and bring me word if it has a fair, round, little face, and chubby cheeks. But, sir, you and Mr. Williams are enough to drive me mad. Formal and precise to say, "Sir!" Mercy on me! you are old-fashioned people, and cite old-fashioned people. What is Sir Richard Steele's authority? Shall we not refine in writing, as in everything else? Steele, Pope, and Addison, are no authority in the point before us.

THE REV. DR. WARNER TO GEORGE SELWYN.

Nov. 1779.

THREE john-dories and a stewed ox-cheek!— Stop, sir! Never leave a place where you can get such eating! Stay, oh! stay, and let me come to you! You make me hungry again for the first time for this week past; and in the evening, too, of this blessed twenty-first Sunday after Trinity, and 24th day of the month; for I could do nothing in the morning towards getting an appe

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tite, though I took the wholesome exercise of preaching for it, and had a good dinner-for a Milton dinner.

But it will not bear mentioning after three johndories and a stewed ox-cheek! Wherefore tempt the Muses? They can give you nothing so good; but if you will tempt them, pray tell me how you choose to have the perch dressed, in a waterzoochey, or plain boiled. I have been already to take a sketch of the carte du pais, and find that jack and perch are always to be had, as well as mutton cabobbed. I shall also order some New College puddings, and Oxford sausages, and hope to bring you over a hare.

I shall be there on Monday night to prepare everything, and get a game of whist with a very good sort of man, in order, if you approve of it, to make him of our party. He seems very unexceptionable; has been a good deal resident in the University; is little inferior to your standing, and, besides the game of whist, can tell us the news of every body and every thing. They tell me that your best road from Burford, is by Woodstock. You may take your post-horses on from Burford to Oxford, stopping an hour at the King's Arms at Woodstock; and if it should be a fine morning, the ladies might like to take a walk in the park. In this case, I will ride on Tuesday morning to Woodstock to meet you, and suppose you will be there about eleven. Burford, I think, is

but seventeen miles from Oxford; so you will have eleven to Woodstock and six afterwards.

His name is Cox,
You know Jenny

If you mean to take this route, you will be pleased to let me know it, and likewise if you would have me invite the Cicerone. Perhaps you know something of him. and he married Jenny Crooke. Crooke? and you know that in many places I have been your proveditor for an inhabitant to pass your evening with.

I have a thousand things to say to you, and a million of thanks to give you for saying so many things to me, and sending me sending me so much Matson news, in such kind and long letters. I must beg, however, as this is a very stirring post with me, and as every hour of to-morrow and next day is engaged, that you will let me defer them till the opportunity I shall so soon have of waiting upon you in person. We will then consult, too, what is to become of this poor country when the Irish shall have a free trade.* They will be better able to pay you your annuity; but

* The illiberal restrictions on Irish trade and industry were at this period occupying the attention of Parliament. On the 13th of the following month (December), Lord North, in one of his best speeches, brought forward his three propositions;— 1st, To allow a free export of wool, woollens, and wool flocks, 2nd, To allow a free export of glass, and all kinds of glass manufacture whatever. 3rd, To allow a free trade with all the British Plantations upon certain considerations, the basis of which was to be an equality of customs, &c., &c.

what shall we be able to pay here? How does this island rise out of the ocean as the very throne of commerce? The throne of freedom will have nothing else, if even that!

ANTHONY MORRIS STORER, ESQ., TO GEORGE SELWYN.

DEAR GEORGE,

Portugal Street, Thursday, Nov. [1779].

CARLISLE kisses hands to-morrow; he is to be First Lord of Trade, as you knew long ago. Hare was to kiss hands too, but he is not in town. The other arrangements are, if determined, not yet disclosed. Next week, most probably, I shall see you in town; at least I flatter myself so.

Carlisle has been dining here these three days dans ma cabane obscure; I am afraid but ill; at least I wish he had dined anywhere else, for I am sure he fared very badly. I hope that all at Matson are well. I will not pretend to anticipate what you will find at London by any account of it at present. I could not refrain from telling you of the news relative to Carlisle, as I knew that it would give you pleasure. Adieu! je vous attends incessamment.