I am, good Mrs. Jewkes,
'Your most obliged humble servant.'
'God be praised it is no worse! And I find I have got no cold, though
miserably wet from top to toe. My fright, I believe, prevented me from
catching cold: for I was not rightly myself for some hours, and know not
how I got home. I will write a letter of thanks this night, if I am
able, to my kind patron, for his inestimable goodness to me. I wish I
was enabled to say all I hope, with regard to the better part of his
bounty to me, incomparable Mrs. Pamela.'
The wicked brute fell a laughing, when she had read this letter, till her
fat sides shook. Said she, I can but think how the poor parson looked,
after parting with his pretty mistress in such high spirits, when he
found himself at the bottom of the dam! And what a figure he must cut in
his tattered band and cassock, and without a hat and wig, when he got
home. I warrant, added she, he was in a sweet pickle!--I said, I thought
it was very barbarous to laugh at such a misfortune; but she replied, As
he was safe, she laughed; otherwise she would have been sorry: and she
was glad to see me so concerned for him--It looked promising, she said.
I heeded not her reflections; but as I have been used to causes for
mistrusts, I cannot help saying, that I don't like this thing: And their
taking his letters most alarms me.
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