Dear Phillips,
Yours always,
J. MELFORD


To Dr LEWIS.
BATH, April 23.
DEAR DOCTOR,

If I did not know that the exercise of your profession has
habituated you to the hearing of complaints, I should make a
conscience of troubling you with my correspondence, which may be
truly called the lamentations of Matthew Bramble. Yet I cannot
help thinking I have some right to discharge the overflowings of
my spleen upon you, whose province it is to remove those
disorders that occasioned it; and let me tell you, it is no small
alleviation of my grievances, that I have a sensible friend, to
whom I can communicate my crusty humours, which, by retention,
would grow intolerably acrimonious.

You must know, I find nothing but disappointment at Bath; which
is so altered, that I can scarce believe it is the same place
that I frequented about thirty years ago. Methinks I hear you
say, 'Altered it is, without all doubt: but then it is altered
for the better; a truth which, perhaps, you would own without
hesitation, if you yourself was not altered for the worse.' The
reflection may, for aught I know, be just. The inconveniences
which I overlooked in the high-day of health, will naturally
strike with exaggerated impression on the irritable nerves of an
invalid, surprised by premature old age, and shattered with long-suffering --