Your kind present of ‘Lady Sale’ reached me on the day of the arrival of my eldest son from India after an absence of seven years. He has returned to me in such robust health that, to tell you the truth, I have been too overjoyed to read, or do anything rational but look at him. Tomorrow, however, I shall leave my young man for your old woman, of whose charms I can give you the following proof. I was at a committee this morning, when I heard a gentleman say: “My friend, Mr. Bouverie, got hold of Lady Sale’s book yesterday evening, and sat reading it till five o’clock this morning.” In fact, he passed the night with Lady Sale instead of with his own wife. I mention this as one of the sins for which, as a publisher, you will some of these days have to account.
