If you and Sir William ever wish me to dine with his brother, it must be the time of a very small party; for it would be worse than death to me, to dine in so large a party.

I expect, that all animals will increase where you are, for I never expect that you will suffer any to be killed.

I am glad Sir William has got the Duke’s poney; riding will do him much good.

I am sorry to tell you, that Dr. Baird is so ill, that I am told it is very probable he may never recover.

This place is the devil’s, for dreadful colds:  and I don’t believe I should get well all the winter; for both cough, and bowels, are still very much out of order.

You are now writing your last letter for Deal; so am I, for Merton, from Deal:  at least, I hope so; for, if I can help it, I will not return to it.

I have much to do, being the last day on board; but ever, my dearest friend, believe me your truly affectionate

  NELSON & BRONTE.

I am literally starving with cold; but my heart is warm.

I suppose I shall dine with Lutwidge:  but I am not very desirous of it; for I shall have Sutton, Bedford, and Hardy, with me.

You must prepare Banti’s mother, as it is a peace, for some other line of life than the navy.  Yesterday, he sold a pair of silver buckles; he would soon ruin poor Charles, who is really a well-disposed boy.

I never shall get warm again, I believe.  I cannot feel the pen.

Make my kindest regards to Sir William, Mrs. Cadogan, Oliver, &c.  Sutton, Hardy, and Bedford, all join in kind remembrances.

As Monday is Horace’s birth-day, I suppose I must send him a one pound note.

LETTER XXXI.

  May 22d, [1803.]
  Eight o’Clock in the Morning.

MY DEAREST EMMA,

We are now in sight of Ushant, and shall see Admiral Cornwallis in an hour.

I am not in a little fret, on the idea that he may keep the Victory, and turn us all into the Amphion.  It will make it truly uncomfortable; but, I cannot help myself.

I assure you, my dear Emma, that I feel a thorough conviction, that we shall meet again, with honour, riches, and health, and remain together till a good old age.  I look at your and my God’s Child’s picture; but, till I am sure of remaining here, I cannot bring myself to hang them up.  Be assured, that my attachment, and affectionate regard, is unalterable; nothing can shake it!  And, pray, say so to my dear Mrs. T. when you see her.  Tell her, that my love is unbounded, to her and her dear sweet child; and, if she should have more, it will extend to all of them.  In short, my dear Emma, say every thing to her, which your dear, affectionate, heart and head, can think of.

We are very comfortable.  Mr. Elliot is happy, has quite recovered his spirits; he was very low, at Portsmouth.  George Elliot is very well; say so, to Lord Minto.  Murray, Sutton—­in short, every body in the ship, seems happy; and, if we should fall in with a French man-of-war, I have no fears but they will do as we used to do.