You cannot think how my feelings are alive towards you; probably, more than ever:  and they never can be diminished.  My hearty endeavours shall not be wanting, to improve and to give US NEW ties of regard and affection.

I have seen, and talked much with, Mrs. Thomson’s friend.  The fellow seems to eat all my words, when I talk of her and his child!  He says, he never can forget your goodness and kind affection to her and his dear, dear child.  I have had, you know, the felicity of seeing it, and a finer child never was produced by any two persons.  It was, in truth, a love-begotten child!  I am determined to keep him on board; for, I know, if they got together, they would soon have another.  But, after our two months trip, I hope, they will never be separated; and, then, let them do as they please.

We are all bustle and activity.  I shall sail, on Monday, after your letter arrives.  Troubridge will send it, as an Admiralty letter.  On Tuesday I shall be in the Downs, if we have any wind; and Troubridge will send, under cover to Admiral Lutwidge.

It is not my intention to set my foot out of the ship, except to make my take-leave bow to Admiral Milbank.  I have been much pressed to dine ashore:  but, no; never, if I can help it, till I dine with you.

  Eleven o’Clock.

Your dear letters just come on board.  They are sympathetic with my own feelings; and, I trust, we shall soon meet, to part no more!

Monday, I shall be here for letters; Tuesday, at Deal.  Recollect, I am, for ever, your’s; aye, for ever, while life remains, your’s, your’s faithfully,

  NELSON & BRONTE.

I charge my only friend to keep well, and think of her Nelson’s glory.

I have written to Lord Eldon, the Chancellor, as my brother desired.

Pray, as you are going to buy a ticket for the Pigot diamond—­buy the right number, or it will be money thrown away.

For ever, ever, your’s, only your’s.

Kindest regards to my dear Mrs. Thomson, and my God Child.

LETTER XIII.

  Deal—­[Shall be on board the Medusa
  before this letter go from the Downs]—­July
  31, 1801.

MY DEAREST EMMA,

Did not you get my letter from Sheerness on Thursday morning, telling you I was just setting off for Deal; as I have no letter from you of yesterday, only those of Wednesday, which went to Sheerness?  It has been my damned blunder, and not your’s; for which I am deservedly punished, by missing one of your dear letters.  They are my comfort, joy, and delight.

My time is, truly, fully taken up, and my hand aches before night comes.

I got to bed, last night, at half past nine; but the hour was so unusual, that I heard the clock strike one.  To say that I thought of you, would be nonsense; for, you are never out of my thoughts.

At this moment, I see no prospect of my getting to London; but, very soon, the business of my command will become so simple, that a child may direct it.