I expect to find you a punctual correspondent. Fail not to let me know,
when, weary of being a _Cavaliere servente_, you shall leave the proud
banks of the Adriatic, and the wanton Venice, for some other abode;
that our letters may never miss their aim. I will relate every thing
that happens to me, when it can either afford you amusement to read, or
me satisfaction to write. You have too much honour and honesty not to
do the same. Or, if not, I will try what a threat can do: therefore
remember that, unless you fulfil the terms of our agreement, and give
me an account of all your rogueries, adventures, successes, and
hair-breadth escapes, I will choose some other more punctual and more
entertaining correspondent.

Observe further, and let that be a spur to your industry, I have a tale
in petto; a whimsical adventure which happened to me yesterday evening;
but which I shall forbear to regale you with, for three substantial
reasons: first because it is my good pleasure; secondly because I like
it; and lastly such is my sovereign will. Nay, if that be all, I can
give you three more: first because I am almost at the end of my paper;
next because I may want a good subject when I write again; and finally
because the post is a sturdy unceremonious fellow, and does not think
proper to wait my leisure.

So farewell; and believe me to be very sincerely yours,

COKE CLIFTON


P.S. I have this moment received information that Sir Arthur St. Ives
and his daughter arrived yesterday in the afternoon at Paris. I have
heard that the daughter is the most beautiful woman in England, and