, and that will be _next best_. I am _your most obliged and
obedient_ POLLY DARNFORD.
LETTER XXXVI
From the same.
My Dearest Mrs. B.,
I am all over joy and rapture. My good papa permits me to say, that
he will put his Polly under your protection, when you go to London. If
you have but a _tenth part_ of the pleasure I have on this occasion, I
am sure, I shall be as welcome as I wish. But he will insist upon it,
he says, that Mr. B. signs some acknowledgment, which I am to carry
along with _me_, that I am intrusted to his honour and yours,
and to be returned to him _heart-whole_ and _dutiful_, and with
a reputation as unsullied as he receives me. But do continue your
journals till then; for I have promised to take them up where you
leave off, to divert our friends here. There will be presumption!
But yet I will write nothing but what I will shew you, and have your
consent to send! For I was taught early not to tell tales out of
school; and a school, the best I ever went to, will be your charming
conversation.
We were greatly diverted with the trick put upon that _barbarian_
Sir Jacob. His obstinacy, repentance, and amendment, followed
so irresistibly in one half hour, from the happy thought of the
excellent lady countess, that I think no plot was ever more fortunate.
It was like springing a lucky mine in a siege, that blew up twenty
times more than was expected from it, and answered all the besiegers'
ends at once.
Mr. B.'s defence of his own conduct towards you is quite noble; and
he judges with his usual generosity and good sense, when, by adding to
your honour, he knows he enhances his own.
You bid me skim over your writings lightly; but 'tis impossible. I
will not flatter you, my dear Mrs. B., nor will I be suspected to
do so; and yet I cannot find words to praise, so much as I think you
deserve: so I will only say that your good parents, for whose pleasure
you write, as well as for mine, cannot receive or read them with more
delight than I do. Even my sister Nancy (judge of their effect by
this!) will at any time leave Murray, and forget to frown or be
ill-natured, while she can hear read what you write. And, angry as
she makes me some times, I cannot deny her this pleasure, because
possibly, among the innumerable improving reflections they abound
with, some one may possibly dart in upon her, and illuminate her, as
your conversation and behaviour did Sir Jacob.
But your application in P.S.
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