My dear Augusta,--I wrote you a vastly dutiful letter since my answer to
your second epistle, and I now write you a third, for which you have to
thank Silence and Solitude. Mr. Hanson [2] comes hither on the 14th, and
I am going to Rochdale on business, but that need not prevent you from
coming here, you will find Joe, and the house and the cellar and all
therein very much at your Service.

As to Lady B., when I discover one rich enough to suit me and foolish
enough to have me, I will give her leave to make me miserable if she
can. Money is the magnet; as to Women, one is as well as another, the
older the better, we have then a chance of getting her to Heaven. So,
your Spouse does not like brats better than myself; now those who beget
them have no right to find fault, but _I_ may rail with great propriety.

My "Satire!"--I am glad it made you laugh for Somebody told me in Greece
that you was angry, and I was sorry, as you were perhaps the only person
whom I did _not_ want to _make angry_.

But how you will make _me laugh_ I don't know, for it is a vastly
_serious_ subject to me I assure you; therefore take care, or I shall
hitch _you_ into the next Edition to make up our family party. Nothing
so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what _I_ am, and what a
parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I
have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own
way;--all this comes of Authorship, but now I am in for it, and shall be
at war with Grubstreet, till I find some better amusement.

You will write to me your Intentions and may almost depend on my being