But did I want a plot, what a charming new one does this letter of Miss Howe strike me out!  I am almost sorry, that I have fixed upon one.—­For here, how easy would it be for me to assemble a crew of swabbers, and to create a Mrs. Townsend (whose person, thou seest, my beloved knows not) to come on Tuesday, at Miss Howe’s repeated solicitations, in order to carry my beloved to a warehouse of my own providing?

This, however, is my triumphant hope, that at the very time that these ragamuffins will be at Hampstead (looking for us) my dear Miss Harlowe and I [so the Fates I imagine have ordained] shall be fast asleep in each other’s arms in town.—­Lie still, villain, till the time comes.—­ My heart, Jack! my heart!—­It is always thumping away on the remotest prospects of this nature.

But it seems that the vileness of this specious monster [meaning me, Jack!] has brought Hickman into credit with her.  So I have done some good!  But to whom I cannot tell:  for this poor fellow, should I permit him to have this termagant, will be punished, as many times we all are, by the enjoyment of his own wishes—­nor can she be happy, as I take it, with him, were he to govern himself by her will, and have none of his own; since never was there a directing wife who knew where to stop:  power makes such a one wanton—­she despises the man she can govern.  Like Alexander, who wept, that he had no more worlds to conquer, she will be looking out for new exercises for her power, till she grow uneasy to herself, a discredit to her husband, and a plague to all about her.

But this honest fellow, it seems, with tears in his eyes, and with humble prostration, besought the vixen to permit him to set out in his chariot-and-four, in order to give himself the glory of protecting such an oppressed innocent, in the face of the whole world.  Nay, he reddened, it seems:  and trembled too! as he read the fair complainant’s letter.—­How valiant is all this!—­Women love brave men; and no wonder that his tears, his trembling, and his prostration, gave him high reputation with the meek Miss Howe.

But dost think, Jack, that I in the like case (and equally affected with the distress) should have acted thus?  Dost think, that I should not first have rescued the lady, and then, if needful, have asked excuse for it, the lady in my hand?—­Wouldst not thou have done thus, as well as I?

But, ’tis best as it is.  Honest Hickman may now sleep in a whole skin.  And yet that is more perhaps than he would have done (the lady’s deliverance unattempted) had I come at this requested permission of his any other way than by a letter that it must not be known that I have intercepted.

Miss Howe thinks I may be diverted from pursuing my charmer, by some new-started villany.  Villany is a word that she is extremely fond of.  But I can tell her, that it is impossible I should, till the end of this villany be obtained.  Difficulty is a stimulus with such a spirit as mine.  I thought Miss Howe knew me better.  Were she to offer herself, person for person, in the romancing zeal of her friendship, to save her friend, it should not do, while the dear creature is on this side the moon.