got home; but she knows as I know what's what Ah Laud help you! --
There is Sir Yury Micligut, of Balnaclinch, in the cunty of
Kalloway -- I took down the name from his gentleman, Mr 0 Frizzle,
and he has got an estate of fifteen hundred a year -- I am sure he
is both rich and generous--But you nose, Molly, I was always
famous for keeping secrets; and so he was very safe in trusting
me with his flegm for mistress; which, to be sure is very
honourable; for Mr 0 Frizzle assures me, he values not her
portion a brass varthing -- And, indeed, what's poor ten thousand
pounds to a Baron Knight of his fortune? and, truly, I told Mr 0
Frizzle that was all she had trust to -- As for John Thomas, he's a
morass fellor -- I vow, I thought he would a fit with Mr 0 Frizzle,
because he axed me to dance with him at Spring Garden -- But God he
knows I have no thoughts eyther of wan or t'other.

As for house news, the worst is, Chowder has fallen off greatly
from his stomick -- He cats nothing but white meats, and not much
of that; and wheezes, and seems to be much bloated. The doctors
think he is threatened with a dropsy -- Parson Marrofat, who has
got the same disorder, finds great benefit from the waters; but
Chowder seems to like them no better than the squire; and
mistress says, if his case don't take a favourable turn, she will
sartinly carry him to Aberga'ny, to drink goat's whey -- To be
sure, the poor dear honymil is lost for want of axercise; for
which reason, she intends to give him an airing once a-day upon
the Downs, in a post-chaise -- I have already made very creditable
connexions in this here place; where, to be sure, we have the
very squintasense of satiety -- Mrs Patcher, my lady Kilmacullock's
woman, and I are sworn sisters. She has shewn me all her secrets,
and learned me to wash gaze, and refrash rusty silks and