very merry at Mr. Pilkington's till after supper, when our spirits danced, and we sung most harmoniously. I have enclosed you a poem to insert in our book, you must not give a copy of it to anybody. I dare not tell you the author, who, I believe you will think, has no reason to be ashamed of the piece. I sent you last post The Grand Question debated, a poem by Swift: I hope you have received it safely, and I am endeavouring to get some more entertainment for you. Miss Bush is abroad again, and comes very often to us: she has lost her fine complexion, but her eyes have not received any damage, but are lively and sweet; she has many agreeable ways with her, and would please you, I am sure. I believe I told you she has a fine genius for painting; she is hard at work for me, she paints both in oil and watercolours. I have enclosed you a little scrap of her drawing, which she scratched out by candlelight in a minute. I hope you draw sometimes. I fancy if you copied some landscapes, and did them in Indian ink, you would like it better than faces. I am sure, with very little applica tion, you would do them very well; but copy only from the best prints. Mrs. Pendarves to Mrs. Ann Granville in the East Gate Street, Glocester, England. Bess has had a sad time of it between her two melancholy sisters. I shall long to see the dear little house in Mary's parish, let me know how it is to be trick'd out? Mrs. Donnellan, alias Queen Elizabeth, alias Philomella, has got another very had cold: she was much delighted with your letter, and if she can will answer it this post. John King is with me, and grows fatter and fatter. Many thanks attends mama, beside my humble duty, for the receipt of yo eye-water: Miss Forth is a woman of great merit and one you would like extremely. I have ten thousand things more to say to you, but time says no; we dine abroad to day, I am not drest, the clock has struck two. Last night we had a full assembly, all the fine folks, but plague take them for engrossing so much of my time, and not allowing me a reasonable opportunity of telling you all I know and all I think. My dear Sally I have not yet wrote to I am provoked when I think of it: I never pass a day without some thought concerning her, but I can now say no more but that in short I am for ever yours. M. PENDARVES. Mrs. Pendarves to Mr. Bernard Granville. MY DEAR BROTHER, Dublin, 7th March, 1731-32. May your assemblies increase at Wells, and every agreeable entertainment that can give you any pleasure. A thousand thanks to you for your last letter. I will not defer my answer, though I am in a monstrous hurry. "Tis fit in return for the account you give me of your amusements, that I let you know what we do here. Why, on the first of March we went to Court in the morning, heard a song of Dubourg's, (not so pretty as the last,) after that compliment was over and we had refreshed ourselves by dinner, we went again at seven. The ball was in the old beef-eaters hall, a room that holds seven hundred people seated, it was well it did, for never did I behold a greater crowd. We were all placed in rows one above another, so much raised that the last row almost touched the ceiling! The gentlemen say we looked very handsome, and compared us to Cupid's Paradise in the puppet-show. At eleven o'clock minuets were finished, and the Duchess went to the basset table. After an hour's playing the Duke, Duchess, and nobility marched into the supper-room, which was the council chamber. In the midst of the room was placed a holly tree, illuminated by an hundred wax tapers; round it was placed all sorts of meat, fruit, and sweetmeats; servants waited next, and were encompased round by a table, to which the company came by turns to take what they wanted. When the doors were first opened, the hurly burly is not to be described; squawling, shrieking, all sorts of noises some ladies lost their lappets, others were trod upon. Poor Lady Santry' almost lost her breath in the scuffle, and fanned herself two hours before she could recover herself enough to know if she was dead or alive. I and my company were more discreet than to go with the torrent; we staid till people had satisfied their curiosity and hunger, and then took a quiet view of the famous tree, which occasion'd more rout than it was worth. I have enclosed you the newest piece of wit now stirring; the author they say is Mr. Fitzmorris. Miss Burton was married last week privately to my Lord Netterville; Lord Montjoy was bit, and some say Miss Pearson, who had given my Lord Netterville great encouragement. I hope in your next letter to hear of Lady Santry, daughter of Sir Thomas Domville, and wife of Barry, 3rd Lord Santry, who died Jan. 27, 1734. |