I durst make him my
confessor, though he is not obliged by his orders to conceal anything
that is told him. But you must tell me then which Brickhill it is you
stop at, Little or Great; they are neither of them far from us. If you
stay there you will write back by him, will you not, a long letter? I
shall need it; besides that, you owe it me for the last being so short.
Would you saw what letters my brother writes me; you are not half so
kind. Well, he is always in the extremes; since our last quarrel he has
courted me more than ever he did in his life, and made me more presents,
which, considering his humour, is as great a testimony of his kindness
as 'twas of Mr. Smith's to my Lady Sunderland when he presented Mrs.
Camilla. He sent me one this week which, in earnest, is as pretty a
thing as I have seen, a China trunk, and the finest of the kind that
e'er I saw. By the way (this puts me in mind on't), have you read the
story of China written by a Portuguese, Fernando Mendez Pinto, I think
his name is? If you have not, take it with you, 'tis as diverting a book
of the kind as ever I read, and is as handsomely written. You must allow
him the privilege of a traveller, and he does not abuse it. His lies are
as pleasant harmless ones, as lies can be, and in no great number
considering the scope he has for them. There is one in Dublin now, that
ne'er saw much farther, has told me twice as many (I dare swear) of
Ireland. If I should ever live to see that country and be in't, I should
make excellent sport with them. 'Tis a sister of my Lady Grey's, her
name is Pooley; her husband lives there too, but I am afraid in no very
good condition. They were but poor, and she lived here with her sisters
when I knew her; 'tis not half a year since she went, I think. If you
hear of her, send me word how she makes a shift there.

And hark you, can you tell me whether the gentleman that lost a crystal
box the 1st of February in St. James' Park or Old Spring Gardens has
found it again or not, I have strong curiosity to know? Tell me, and
I'll tell you something that you don't know, which is, that I am your
Valentine and you are mine. I did not think of drawing any, but Mrs.
Goldsmith and Jane would need make me some for them and myself; so I
writ down our three names, and for men Mr. Fish, James B., and you. I
cut them all equal and made them up myself before them, and because I
would owe it wholly to my good fortune if I were pleased. I made