"I am sure you have the best of hearts, and I have no doubt you
have acted with the best intentions. My lover, or, I should rather
say, my fortune's lover, has indeed forsaken me. I cannot say I
did not feel it; indeed, I cried very much; and the altered looks
of people who used to be so delighted to see me, really annoyed me
so, that I determined to change the scene altogether. I have come
into Wales, and am boarding with a farmer and his wife. Their
stock of English is very small; but I managed to agree with them,
and they have four of the sweetest children I ever saw, to whom I
teach all I know, and I manage to pick up some Welsh. I have
puzzled out a little song, which I think very pretty; I have
translated it into English, and I send it you, with the original
air. You shall play it on your flute at eight o'clock every
Saturday evening, and I will play and sing it at the same time, and
I will fancy that I hear my dear papa accompanying me.

"The people in London said very unkind things of you: they hurt me
very much at the time; but now I am out of their way, I do not seem
to think their opinion of much consequence. I am sure, when I
recollect, at leisure, everything I have seen and heard among them,
I cannot make out what they do that is so virtuous, as to set them
up for judges of morals. And I am sure they never speak the truth
about anything, and there is no sincerity in either their love or
their friendship. An old Welsh bard here, who wears a waistcoat
embroidered with leeks, and is called the Green Bard of Cadeir
Idris, says the Scotch would be the best people in the world, if
there was nobody but themselves to give them a character: and so I
think would the Londoners. I hate the very thought of them, for I
do believe they would have broken my heart, if I had not got out of