a loser on all sides. Well, patience is like a stout Welsh poney;
it bears a great deal, and trots a great way; but it will tire at
the long run. Before its long, perhaps I may shew Matt, that I
was not born to be the household drudge to my dying day -- Gwyn
rites from Crickhowel, that the price of flannel is fallen three-
farthings an ell; and that's another good penny out of my pocket.
When I go to market to sell, my commodity stinks; but when I want
to buy the commonest thing, the owner pricks it up under my nose;
and it can't be had for love nor money -- I think everything runs
cross at Brambleton-hall -- You say the gander has broke the eggs;
which is a phinumenon I don't understand: for when the fox
carried off the old goose last year, he took her place, and
hatched the eggs, and partected the goslings like a tender
parent -- Then you tell me the thunder has soured two barrels of
beer in the seller. But how the thunder should get there, when
the seller was double-locked, I can't comprehend. Howsomever, I
won't have the beer thrown out, till I see it with my own eyes.
Perhaps, it will recover -- At least it will serve for vinegar to
the servants. -- You may leave off the fires in my brother's
chamber and mine, as it is unsartain when we return. -- I hope,
Gwyllim, you'll take care there is no waste; and have an eye to
the maids, and keep them to their spinning. I think they may go
very well without beer in hot weather -- it serves only to inflame
the blood, and set them a-gog after the men. Water will make them
fair and keep them cool and tamperit. Don't forget to put up in
the portmantel, that cums with Williams, along with my riding-habit,
hat, and feather, the viol of purl water, and the tincktur
for my stomach; being as how I am much troubled with
flutterencies. This is all at present, from