L. STERNE.

P. S. I have just received, as a present from a man I shall ever love, a most elegant gold snuff-box, fabricated for me at Paris 'tis not the first pledge I have received of his friendship may I presume to inclose you a letter of chit-chat which I shall write to Eliza? I know you will write yourself, and my letter may have the honour to chaperon yours to India they will neither of them be the worse received for going together in company, but I fear they will get late in the year to their destined port, as they go first to Bengal.

--

Coxwould, Aug. 24, 1767.

I AM truly surprised, my dear Lydia, that my last letter has not reached thy mother and thyself— It looks most unkind on my part, after your having wrote me word of your mother's intention of coming to England, that she has not received my letter to welcome you both and though in that I said I wished you would defer your journey till March, for before that time I should have published my sentimental work, and should be in town to receive you yet I will shew you more real politesses than any you have met with in France, as mine will come warm from the heart. I am sorry you are not here at the races, but les fêtes champêtres of the Marquis de Sade have made you amends. I know Bvery well, and he is what in France would be called admirable

that would be but so-so here

You are right

he studies nature more than any, or rather most, of the French comedians If the Empress of Russia

The folly that you two "his con

Surely

pays him and his wife a pension of twenty thousand livres a year, I think he is very well off. very well off. of staying till after twelve for supper excommunicated beings might have meat! science would not let it be served before." the Marquis thought you both, being English, could not be satisfied without it. I would have given, not my gown and cassock (for I have but one), but my topaz ring, to have seen the petits maîtres et maîtresses go to mass, after having 'spent the night in dancing. As to my pleasures, they are few in compass. My poor cat sits purring beside me your lively French dog shall have his place on the other side of my fire but if he is as devilish as when I last saw him, I must tutor him, for I will not have my cat abused in short, I will have nothing devilish about me a combustion will spoil a sentimental thought.

Another thing I must desire do not be alarmed 'tis to throw all your rouge pots into the Sorgue before you set out I will have no rouge put on in England and do not bewail them as

-

did

her silver seringue or glister equipage, which she lost in a certain river but take a wise resolution of doing without rouge. I have been three days ago bad again - with a spitting of blood and that unfeeling brute ******* came and drew my curtains, and with a voice like a trumpet, halloo'd in my ear Z-ds, what a fine kettle of fish have you brought yourself to, Mr. S! In a faint voice I bade him leave me, for comfort sure was never administered in so rough a

manner Tell your mother, I hope she will purchase what either of you may want at Paris 'tis an occasion not to be lost so write to me from Paris, that I may come and meet you in my post-chaise with my long-tailed horses and the moment you have both put your feet in it, call it hereafter yours. Adieu, dear Lydia · believe me what I ever shall be, Your affectionate father,

L. STERNE.

I think I shall not write to Avignon any more, but you will find one for you at Paris adieu.

once more

September 19, 1767.

You are perhaps the drollest being in the universe

I

why do you banter me so about what I wrote to you? Tho' I told you, every morning I jump'd into Venus's lap (meaning thereby the sea), was you to infer from that, that I leaped into the ladies' beds afterwards? The body guides you the mind me. I have wrote the most whimsical letter to a lady that was ever read, and talked of body and soul too said she had made me vain by saying she was mine more than ever woman was but she is not the lady of Bond-street, nor supped with me in Bondstreet, on scollop'd oysters, and other such things nor did she ever go tête-à-tête with me to Salt Hill.

square, nor the lady who

Enough of such nonsense

and I can justify myself unto do as much? No, 'faith! Aye, so can my cat, when he

but

hears a female cater-wauling on the house-top cater-wauling disgusts me. I had rather raise a gentle

not

flame than have a different one raised in me. Now I take heaven to witness, after all this badinage, my heart is innocent and the sporting of my pen is equal, just equal to what I did in my boyish days, when I got astride of a stick, and gallop'd away The truth is this that my pen governs me me my pen. You are much to blame if you dig for marl, unless you are sure of it. I was once such a puppy myself as to pare, and burn, and had my labour for my pains, and two hundred pounds out of my pocket. Curse on farming (said I), I will try if the pen will not succeed better than the spade. The following up of that affair (I mean farming) made me lose my temper, and a cart-load of turnips was (I thought) very dear at two hundred pounds.

Adieu,

In all your operations may your own good sense guide you bought experience is the devil. adieu! Believe me

world has left it

You are arrived at Scarborough when all the but you are an unaccountable being, and so there is nothing more to be said on the matter You wish me to come to Scarborough, and join you to read a work that is not yet finished besides, I have other things in my head. My wife will be here in three or four days, and I must not be found straying in the wilderness but I have been

there. As for meeting you at Bluit's, with all my heart — I will laugh, and drink my barley-water with you. As soon as I have greeted my wife and daughter, and hired them a house at York, I shall go to London, where you generally are in spring and then my Sentimental Journey will, I dare say, convince you that my feelings are from the heart, and that that heart is not of the worst of moulds praised be God for my sensibility! Though it has often made me wretched, yet I would not exchange it for all the pleasures the grossest sensualist ever felt. Write to me the day you will be at York 'tis ten to one but I introduce you to my wife and daughter. Believe me, my good Ever yours,

Sir,

CIX.

may

L. STERNE.

TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.

DEAR SIR,

York, Oct. 1, 1767.

I HAVE ordered my friend Becket to advance for two months your account which my wife this day deliver'd

she is in raptures with all your civilities. This is to give you notice to draw upon your correspondent — and Becket will deduct out of my publication. Tomorrow morning I repair with her to Coxwould, and my Lydia seems transported with the sight of me. Nature, dear P-, breathes in all her composition; and except a little vivacity which is a fault in the world. we live in — I am fully content with her mother's care of her. Pardon this digression from business 'tis natural to speak of those we love. As to the subscriptions which your friendship has procured me, I must have them to incorporate with my lists which are to be prefixed to the first volume. My wife and daughter

but