Pray tell me how you are, and if you are making a good recovery. I have long thought of writing, but feared you would be plagued by such sort of letters.
An old Aunt has died and left me an estate in London; this puts me a little at my ease, and will, in some degree, save me from the hitherto necessary, but unpleasant, practice of making sixpence perform the functions and assume the importance of a shilling.
Part of my little estate is the Guildhall Coffee-house, in King-street, Cheapside. I mean to give a ball there. Will you come?
I am very sorry for poor Sir Robert Wilson. If he has been guilty of any indiscretion, I cannot see the necessity of visiting it with so severe a punishment. So much military valour might be considered as an apology for a little civil indiscretion; but if no indiscretion has been committed, why, then publish in the
220 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
How is Lord Grey? Is he good friends with me? If he is, give him my very kind regards, and if he is not; for I never value people as they value me, but as they are valuable; so pray send me an account of yourself, and whether you have got out of sago and tapioca into rabbit and boiled chicken. God send you may be speedily advanced to a mutton-chop!