To John Johnson, Esq. [688]
Jan. 31, 1793.
Io Pæan!
My dearest Johnny,—Even as you foretold, so it came to pass. On Tuesday I received your letter, and on Tuesday came the pheasants; for which I am indebted in many thanks, as well as Mrs. Unwin, both to your kindness and to your kind friend Mr. Copeman.
In Copeman's ear this truth let Echo tell,—
"Immortal bards like mortal pheasants well:"
And when his clerkship's out, I wish him herds
Of golden clients for his golden birds.
Our friends the Courtenays have never dined with us since their marriage, because we have never asked them; and we have never asked them, because poor Mrs. Unwin is not so equal to the task of providing for and entertaining company as before this last illness. But this is no objection to the arrival here of a bustard; rather it is a cause for which we shall be particularly glad to see the monster. It will be a handsome present to them. So let the bustard come, as the Lord Mayor of London said of the hare, when he was hunting—let her come, a' God's name: I am not afraid of her.
Adieu, my dear cousin and caterer. My eyes are terribly bad; else, I had much more to say to you.
Ever affectionately yours,
W. C.