e without begging your
pardon, for not obeying your commands, in sending the lace you
ordered me. Upon my word, I can yet find none, that is not dearer
than you may buy it at London. If you want any India goods, here are
great variety of penny-worths; and I shall follow your orders with
great pleasure and exactness; being, Dear Madam, &c. &c.

LET. III

TO MRS. S. C.

_Nimeguen, Aug_.13. O. S. 1716.

I AM extremely sorry, my dear S. that your fears of disobliging your
relations, and their fears for your health and safety, have hindered
me from enjoying the happiness of your company, and you the pleasure
of a diverting journey. I receive some degree of mortification from
every agreeable novelty, or pleasing prospect, by the reflection of
your having so unluckily missed the delight which I know it would
have given you. If you were with me in this town, you would be ready
to expect to receive visits from your Nottingham friends. No two
places were ever more resembling; one has but to give the Maese the
name of the Trent, and there is no distinguishing the prospect. The
houses, like those of Nottingham, are built one above another, and
are intermixed in the same manner with trees and gardens. The tower
they call Julius Caesar's, has the same situation with Nottingham
castle; and I cannot help fancying, I see from it the Trentfield,
Adboulton, places so well known to us. 'Tis true, the fortifications
make a considerable difference. All the learned in the art of war
bestow great commendations on them; for my part, that know nothing of
the matter, I shall content myself with telling you, 'tis a very
pretty walk on the ramparts, on which there is a tower, very
deservedly called the Belvidera; where people go to drink coffee,
tea, &c. and enjoy one of the finest prospects in the world. The
public walks have no great beauty but the thick shade of the trees,
which is solemnly delightful. But I must not forget to take notice
of the bridge, which appeared very surprising to me. It is large
enough to hold hundreds of men, with horses and carriages. They give
the value of an English two-pence to get upon it, and then away they
go, bridge and all, to the other side of the river, with so slow a
motion, one is hardly sensible of any at all. I was yesterday at the
French church, and stared very much at their manner of service. The
parson clapped on a broad-brimmed hat in the first place, which gave
him e