DEAR Sir,—The unbounded range of munificence
presented to my choice staggers me. What can twenty votes do for one hundred
and two widows? I cast my eyes hopeless among the viduage. N.B.—Southey might be ashamed of himself to let his
aged mother stand at the top of the list, with his £100 a year and butt of
sack. Sometimes I sigh over No. 12, Mrs. Carve-ill, some
poor relation of mine, no doubt. No. 15 has my wishes; but then she is a Welsh
one. I have Ruth upon No. 21. I’d tug hard for No.
24. No. 25 is an anomaly: there can be no Mrs. Hogg. No.
24 ensnares me. No. 73 should not have met so foolish a person.
| 1834 | ELIA IN HINDUSTAN | 941 |
Yours, every third Wednesday,
