Indeed, I may say, without vanity, that I was much better qualified than any one of my companions, who were, generally speaking, of all the creatures I ever conversed with, the most ignorant and assuming.

By means of these avocations I got the better of care, and learned to separate my ideas in such a manner that, whenever I was attacked by a gloomy reflection, I could shove it aside, and call in some agreeable reverie to my assistance.

This was not the case with Strap, who practised a thousand shifts to conceal the sorrow that preyed upon his carcass, and reduced him to the resemblance of a mere skeleton.
While I thus posted, in a thoughtless manner, towards poverty, I one day received, by the penny post, a letter written in a woman's hand, containing a great many high-flown compliments, warm protestations of love, couched in a very poetical style, an earnest desire of knowing whether or not my heart was engaged, by leaving an answer at a certain place, directed to R.B., and the whole subscribed "Your incognita." I was transported with joy on reading the contents of this billet-doux, which I admired as a masterpiece of tenderness and elegance, and was already up to my ears in love with the author, whom my imagination represented as a lady of fortune, in the bloom of youth and beauty.
Elevated with this conjecture, I went to work, and exhausted my invention in composing an answer suitable to the sublimity of her style and the ardour of her sentiments.

I expressed my admiration of her wit in terms the most hyperbolical, and while I acknowledged myself unworthy of her regard, declared myself enamoured of her understanding; and in the most pathetic manner implored the honour of an interview.

Having finished this performance, and communicated it to Strap, who skipped about for joy, I dispatched him with it to the place appointed, which was the house of a milliner not far from Bond Street, and desired him to keep watch near the door for some time, that he might discover the person who should call for it.