I am, Sir, with respect more than I can well utter, your obedient servant,

  EMMA HAMILTON.

Letters

FROM

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON, K.B.

TO

LADY HAMILTON.

Letters OF SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON, K.B. _&c._

I.

  Persano, [Wednesday]
  Jan. 4, 1792.

We arrived here, yesterday, in little more than five hours, and had nearly began with a disagreeable accident; for the King’s horse took fright at the guard, and his Majesty and horse were as near down as possible.  However, all ended well; and he was as gay as possible, yesterday.

Our first chasse has not succeeded; though there were two wolves, and many wild boars, in the Mena:  but the king would direct how we should beat the wood, and began at the wrong end; by which the wolves and boars escaped, and we remained without shooting power.  However, ten or twelve boars have been killed, some how or other, and some large ones.

The King’s face is very long, at this moment; but, I dare say, to-morrow’s good sport will shorten it again.

I was sorry, my dear Em. to leave you in affliction:  you must harden yourself to such little misfortunes as a temporary parting; but, I cannot blame you for having a good and tender heart.  Believe me, you are in thorough possession of all mine, though I will allow it to be rather tough.

Let us study to make one another as comfortable as we can; and “banish sorrow, till to-morrow:”  and so on, every day.

You are wise enough to see the line it is proper for you to take; and have, hitherto, followed it most rigorously:  and I can assure you, that I have not the least doubt of your continuing in it.

Amuse yourself as well as you can, as I am doing, whilst we are separate; and the best news you can give me is, that you are well and happy.

My cold is already better for having passed the whole day in the open air, and without human seccatura.

Adieu! my dear, dear Emma.  I am, with my love to your good mother, your’s ever, and faithfully,

  W.H.

II.

  Persano, Thursday,
  [Jan. 5th, 1792.]

We got home early, and I have not yet received your Daily Advertiser.

No sport, again!  In the midst of such a quantity of game, they have contrived to carry him far off, where there is none.  He has no other comfort, to-day, than having killed a wild cat; and his face is a yard long.

However, his Majesty has vowed vengeance on the boars to-morrow, and will go according to his own fancy; and, I dare say, there will be a terrible slaughter.

The last day, we are to keep all we kill; and, I suppose, it will be night before we get home.