LETTER CXXVIII 211 



I could wish you to see my Garden now, for it is in Beauty : 

 tho' I have had severe Losses in my Shrubbery, & have had 

 some fine Trees hurt, so that I doubt of their Recovery. My 

 Laurestinums are gone, & tho' there is Life in the Roots of some 

 of them, it will be many Years before they can grow to their 

 old Perfection, & cannot bear the Shape that they had before : 

 my Bay Tree is wither'd & gone ; my Strawberry Tree which was 

 a Beauty ; & one of my finest Cypresses in the Grove looks like 

 a Caxen, & spoils my Green Screen ; & many of them look bad. 

 My House Wall & West windows are robb'd of their umbrella 

 of Jessamin, which shaded my Eyes, & regaled my Nose. My 

 cover'd way to ye Temple of Cloacina is laid bare, & the Ladies 

 scream & run back to take Refuge in the place, which they affect 

 never to go to. 



We expect my Brother and Sister Mulso here soon, but tho 

 Time is not fixed. Tomorrow will be a busy day wth me, who 

 am to preach before ye Bishop of Oxford & the Clergy, & attend 

 a vast Croud at the Confirmation, the Dinner &c : but my Lord 

 has not accepted my Invitation to take a Bed here. Poor man, 

 he has lost a Daughter, who died but on Sunday last ! & I 

 imagine, a Man such as he is, must have delicate Feelings. 

 Poor Hoskins has lost his eldest Son in Inoculation, & he is 

 exceedingly hurt & alter'd by it. 



I hope Mr. Etty rejoyces in his agreeable Accession of 

 Preferment ; I wish you had attained your Views in that 

 Neighbourhood. 



We are all tolerable well, tho' the Changes of Heat & Cold 

 have not failed to affect Us. I have been hardly on Horseback 

 at all lately ; my Horse is lame & I beleive from Want of 

 Exercise. They nibble in ye Yard ; but I much miss my 

 Yorkshire Plenty of Ings. 



My Wife & Children are all well & much at your Service. 

 Pray, is our not coming to Selborne, when We cannot, a Reason 

 for your not coming to Witney when you can ? You had not 

 forgotten any Commission from Mrs Mulso ; but she hates a 

 friend who will not write now & then ; so She thought You false 

 because You kept too long a silence. 



Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit Silentium. We shall be 

 glad to hear that you are well, & that You do not hold us 

 cheap for declining so agreeable a Proffer as a Visit to Selborne 

 would be. 



I am, Dear Gil, Your's afftely, 



J. Mulso. 



