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Letter 13.—­There is some allusion here to an inconstant lover of my Lady Diana Rich, who seems to have deserted his mistress on account of the sore eyes with which, Dorothy told us in a former letter, her friend was afflicted.

I cannot find any account of the great shop above the Exchange, “The Flower Pott.”  There were two or three “Flower Pots” in London at this time, one in Leadenhall Street and another in St. James’ Market.  An interesting account of the old sign is given in a work on London tradesmen’s tokens, in which it is said to be “derived from the earlier representations of the salutations of the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, in which either lilies were placed in his hand, or they were set as an accessory in a vase.  As Popery declined, the angel disappeared, and the lily-pot became a vase of flowers; subsequently the Virgin was omitted, and there remained only the vase of flowers.  Since, to make things more unmistakeable, two debonair gentlemen, with hat in hand, have superseded the floral elegancies of the olden time, and the poetry of the art seems lost.”

SIR,—­I am glad you ’scaped a beating, but, in earnest, would it had lighted on my brother’s groom.  I think I should have beaten him myself if I had been able.  I have expected your letter all this day with the greatest impatience that was possible, and at last resolved to go out and meet the fellow; and when I came down to the stables, I found him come, had set up his horse, and was sweeping the stable in great order.  I could not imagine him so very a beast as to think his horses were to be serv’d before me, and therefore was presently struck with an apprehension he had no letter for me:  it went cold to my heart as ice, and hardly left me courage enough to ask him the question; but when he had drawled it out that he thought there was a letter for me in his bag, I quickly made him leave his broom.  ’Twas well ’tis a dull fellow, he could not [but] have discern’d else that I was strangely overjoyed with it, and earnest to have it; for though the poor fellow made what haste he could to untie his bag, I did nothing but chide him for being so slow.  Last I had it, and, in earnest, I know not whether an entire diamond of the bigness on’t would have pleased me half so well; if it would, it must be only out of this consideration, that such a jewel would make me rich enough to dispute you with Mrs. Chambers, and perhaps make your father like me as well.  I like him, I’ll swear, and extremely too, for being so calm in a business where his desires were so much crossed.  Either he has a great power over himself, or you have a great interest in him, or both.  If you are pleased it should end thus, I cannot dislike it; but if it would have been happy for you, I should think myself strangely unfortunate in being the cause that it went not further.  I cannot say that I prefer your interest before my own, because all yours are so much mine that ’tis