Eat like a Turk,
  Sleep like a dormouse;
  Be last at work,
  At victuals foremost.

Which is all at present; hoping you and your good family are well, as we are all at this present writing &c.

Robin has just carried out a load of bread and cold meat for breakfast; this is their way; but now a cloud hangs over them, for fear it should hold up, and the clouds blow off.

I write on till Molly comes in for the letter.  O, what a draggletail will she be before she gets to Dublin!  I wish she may not happen to fall upon her back by the way.

I affirm against Aristotle, that cold and rain congregate homogenes, for they gather together you and your crew, at whist, punch, and claret.  Happy weather for Mrs. Maul, Betty, and Stopford, and all true lovers of cards and laziness.

THE BLESSINGS OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

  Far from our debtors,
  No Dublin letters,
  Not seen by our betters.

THE PLAGUES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

  A companion with news,
  A great want of shoes;
  Eat lean meat, or choose;
  A church without pews. 
  Our horses astray,
  No straw, oats, or hay;
  December in May,
  Our boys run away,
  All servants at play.

Molly sends for the letter.

TO ALEXANDER POPE

Mostly about Gulliver

Dublin, 17 Nov. 1726.

I am just come from answering a letter of Mrs. Howard’s, writ in such mystical terms, that I should never have found out the meaning, if a book had not been sent me called Gulliver’s Travels, of which you say so much in yours.  I read the book over, and in the second volume observed several passages which appear to be patched and altered, and the style of a different sort, unless I am mistaken.  Dr. Arbuthnot likes the projectors least; others, you tell me, the flying island; some think it wrong to be so hard upon whole bodies or corporations, yet the general opinion is, that reflections on particular persons are most to be blamed; so that in these cases, I think the best method is to let censure and opinion take their course.  A bishop here said, that book was full of improbable lies, and for his part, he hardly believed a word of it; and so much for Gulliver.

Going to England is a very good thing, if it were not attended with an ugly circumstance of returning to Ireland.  It is a shame you do not persuade your ministers to keep me on that side, if it were but by a court expedient of keeping me in prison for a plotter; but at the same time I must tell you, that such journeys very much shorten my life, for a month here is very much longer than six at Twickenham.

How comes friend Gay to be so tedious?  Another man can publish fifty thousand lies sooner than he can publish fifty fables....  Let me add, that if I were Gulliver’s friend, I would desire all my acquaintance to give out that his copy was basely mangled and abused, and added to, and blotted out by the printer; for so to me it seems in the second volume particularly.