It is amusing to observe that, while thus anxious, and from a highly noble motive, to throw his authorship into the shade while engaged in so much more serious pursuits, it was yet an author’s mode of revenge that always occurred to him, when under the influence of any of these passing resentments.  Thus, when a little angry with Colonel Stanhope one day, he exclaimed, “I will libel you in your own Chronicle;” and in this brief burst of humour I was myself the means of provoking in him, I have been told, on the authority of Count Gamba, that he swore to “write a satire” upon me.

Though the above letter shows how momentary was any little spleen he may have felt, there not unfrequently, I own, comes over me a short pang of regret to think that a feeling of displeasure, however slight, should have been among the latest I awakened in him.]

“When the proper moment to be of some use arrived, I came here; and am told that my arrival (with some other circumstances) has been of, at least, temporary advantage to the cause.  I had a narrow escape from the Turks, and another from Shipwreck on my passage.  On the 15th (or 16th) of February I had an attack of apoplexy, or epilepsy,—­the physicians have not exactly decided which, but the alternative is agreeable.  My constitution, therefore, remains between the two opinions, like Mahomet’s sarcophagus between the magnets.  All that I can say is, that they nearly bled me to death, by placing the leeches too near the temporal artery, so that the blood could with difficulty be stopped, even with caustic, I am supposed to be getting better, slowly, however.  But my homilies will, I presume, for the future, be like the Archbishop of Grenada’s—­in this case, ’I order you a hundred ducats from my treasurer, and wish you a little more taste.’

“For public matters I refer you to Colonel Stanhope’s and Capt.  Parry’s reports,—­and to all other reports whatsoever.  There is plenty to do—­war without, and tumult within—­they ’kill a man a week,’ like Bob Acres in the country.  Parry’s artificers have gone away in alarm, on account of a dispute in which some of the natives and foreigners were engaged, and a Swede was killed, and a Suliote wounded.  In the middle of their fright there was a strong shock of an earthquake; so, between that and the sword, they boomed off in a hurry, in despite of all dissuasions to the contrary.  A Turkish brig run ashore, &c. &c. &c.[1]

[Footnote 1:  What I have omitted here is but a repetition of the various particulars, respecting all that had happened since his arrival, which have already been given in the letters to his other correspondents.]

“You, I presume, are either publishing or meditating that same.  Let me hear from and of you, and believe me, in all events,

“Ever and affectionately yours,

“N.  B.

“P.S.  Tell Mr. Murray that I wrote to him the other day, and hope that he has received, or will receive, the letter.”