I have
no Manner of Time at all to my self; and you, who seem to be a wise
Man, must needs be sensible that every Person has little Secrets and
Privacies that are not proper to be expos'd even to the nearest
Friend. Now I cannot do the least Thing in the World, but she must
know all about it; and it is a Wonder I have found an Opportunity to
write you this Letter. My Misfortune is, that I respect her very
well, and know not how to disoblige her so much as to tell her I
should be glad to have less of her Company; for if I should once hint
such a Thing, I am afraid she would resent it so as never to darken
my Door again. -- But, alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my
Afflictions. She has two Children that are just big enough to run
about and do pretty Mischief: These are continually along with
_Mamma_, either in my Room or Shop, if I have never so many Customers
or People with me about Business. Sometimes they pull the Goods off
my low Shelves down to the Ground, and perhaps where one of them has
just been making Water; My Friend takes up the Stuff, and cries, _Eh!
thou little wicked mischievous Rogue! -- But however, it has done no
great Damage; 'tis only wet a little_; and so puts it up upon the
Shelf again. Sometimes they get to my Cask of Nails behind the
Counter, and divert themselves, to my great Vexation, with mixing my
Ten-penny and Eight-penny and Four-penny together.
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