I WRIT to you some weeks ago, and enclosed (as now) a letter to your neighbour. But I fear it was kidnapped by some privateer, or else you were lazy or forgetful; or which is full as good, perhaps it had no need of an answer, and I would not for a good deal, that the former had miscarried, because the enclosed was wonderfully politick, and would have been read to you, as this, I suppose, will, though it be not half so profound. Now are you gone some summer ramble, and will not receive this in a fortnight; nor send the enclosed in as much more. I have often begged you would let me buy you one fifty pounds worth of books; but now I have been here so long, I believe you will have reason to apprehend I may sink the money. Sir A. Fountain will never be satisfied till he gets into the little room, with the three Ashes, the bishop of Killala, and myself, to be happy at the expense of your wine and conversation. Here is a sight of two girls joined together at the back, which, in the newsmonger's phrase, causes a great many speculations; and raises abundance of questions in divinity, law, and physick. The boys of our town are mighty happy, for we are to have a beheading next week, unless the queen will interpose her mercy. Here is a long lampoon publickly printed, abusing by name at length, all the young people of quality,
