I doubt Mr. Essex perceived that my mind was greatly bewildered. He gave me a direction to Mr. Penticross, who, I recollect, Mr. Gray, not you, told me was turned a Methodist teacher. He was a Blue-Coat boy, and came hither then to some of my servants, having at that age a poetic turn. As he has reverted to it, I hope the enthusiasm will take a more agreeable ply. I have not heard of him for many years, and thought he was settled somewhere near Cambridge: I find it is Wallingford. I wonder these madmen and knaves do not begin to wear out, as their folly is no longer new, and as knavery can turn its hand to any trade according to the humour of the age, which in countries like this is seldom constant.