The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Letter from Martha Whiteway to Jonathan Swift - 5

DUBLIN, NOV. 29, 1735.

I NEVER was more out of temper in my life than I have been these two days ; yesterday that I did not hear from you, and to day at the rogue that brought your letter to Mr. Kenrick at ten last night, and the disappointment we have met with from him that was to carry the wine to Cavan. The enclosed letter gives so full an account, that I need add nothing to it, but his being a right county of Cavan man. I desire Dr. Sheridan will take care for the future not to employ them about your business; I owe him this reflection, for trusting such rogues. Pray, sir, tell me what I shall do in this business; shall I get Mr. Shele and Mr. Kenrick to look out for an honest carman, and agree as cheap as we can to carry it to you? for I find there is no depending on the doctor's countrymen. Had you assured me, as you say the surgeon does, that your leg was better, my joy would be equal to the uneasiness I have suffered on that occasion. I fear I shall never have the pleasure of being with you on your birthday; were my purse as heavy as my heart is, that I cannot be with you to morrow, I would this night have been at Cavan, and have left it on Monday morning.

I shall make a great entertainment to morrow for my family, to celebrate the Drapier's birthday, and drink his health. My two eldest cubs (match me that) present you their most humble and obedient respects, with their hearty wishes of long life, health, and happiness, to attend you. They durst not take the liberty to send this with their hand, but do it with their heart. I send you their own words; but where shall I find any that can express what I would say on the subject? The most sincere would be what I desire for myself whilst I continue in this world, which is health and quietness. This I pray God grant you in the largest portion, and life as long as you shall desire it!

Mr. Morgan's heathenish name is Marcus Antonius; I saw him and his lady yesterday, who both say they should be glad to kiss your hand; his eldest son is in the measles. Last night died the bishop of Ossory, of an inflammation on the lungs: he caught cold on Sunday at the castle chapel. We have provided one of the bishopricks for doctor Marlay.

I am told by some people that lord Orrery intends to make you and doctor Sheridan a visit; if so, I fear it will be a long time before you will think of returning here. I expect a long letter from doctor Sheridan, in answer to all that I have said to him in this.

I think this is so well written, that it needs no apology for a bad pen.

I am, sir, your most humble and most obedient servant,