for I doubt I have few virtues but what he has presented me with; and in a dedication, you know, One is permitted to have as many as the author can afford to bestow.  I really have another objection to the plate:  which is, the ten guineas.  I have so many draughts on my extravagance for trifles, that I like better than vanity, that I should not care to be at that expense.  But I should think either the Duke or Duchess of Northumberland would rejoice at such an Opportunity of buying incense; and I will tell you what you shall do.  Write to Mr. Percy, and vaunt the discovery of Duke Brithnoth’s bones, and ask him to move their graces to contribute a plate.  They Could not be so unnatural as to refuse; especially if the Duchess knew the size of his thigh-bone.

I was very happy to show civilities to your friends, and should have asked them to stay and dine, but unluckily expected other company.  Dr. Ewin seems a very good sort of man, and Mr. Rawlinson a very agreeable one.  Pray do not think it was any trouble to me to pay respect to your recommendation.

I have been eagerly reading Mr. Shenstone’s Letters, which, though containing nothing but trifles, amused me extremely, as they mention so many persons I know; particularly myself.  I found there, what I did not know, and what, I believe, Mr. Gray,(1070) himself never knew, that his ode on my cat was written to ridicule Lord Lyttelton’s monody.  It is just as true as that the latter will survive, and the former be forgotten.  There is another anecdote equally vulgar, and
                                                   void of truth: 
that my father, sitting in George’s coffee-house, (I suppose Mr. Shenstone thought that, after he quitted his place, he went to the coffee-houses to learn news,) was asked to contribute to a figure of himself that was to be beheaded by the mob.  I do remember something like it, but it happened to myself.  I met a mob, just after my father was out, in Hanover-square, and drove up to it to know what was the matter.  They were carrying about a figure of my sister.(1071) This probably gave rise to the other story.  That on my uncle I never heard; but it Is a good story, and not at all improbable.  I felt great pity on reading these letters for the narrow circumstances of the author, and the passion for fame that he was tormented with; and yet he had much more fame than his talents entitled him to.  Poor man! he wanted to have all the world talk of him for the pretty place he had made; and which he seems to have made only that it might be talked of.(1072) The first time a company came to see my house, I felt this joy.  I am now so tired of it, that I shudder when the bell rings at the gate.  It is as bad as keeping an inn, and I am often tempted to deny its being shown, if it would not be ill-natured to those that come, and to my housekeeper.  I own, I was one day too cross, I had