ratia; for, I will not put it in my own power to have
her left destitute: for she would want friends, if we left her in this
world. She shall be independent of any smiles or frowns!

I am glad you are going to take her home; and, if you will take the
trouble with Eliza and Ann, I am the very last to object.

Tom, I shall certainly assist at college; and, I am sure, the Doctor
expects that I should do the same for Horace: but I must make my
arrangements, so as not to run in debt.

April 9th.

I have wrote to the Duke; but, by your account, I fear he is not
alive. I write, because you wish me; and, because I like the Duke,
and hope he will leave you some money. But, for myself, I can have
no right to expect a farthing: nor would I be a legacy hunter for the
world; I never knew any good come from it.

I send you a letter from Mr. Falconet. I am afraid, they have made a
jumble about the _amorins_. And I send you a very impertinent letter
from that old cat. I have sent her a very dry answer, and told her, I
should send the sweetmeats to you. I always hated the old bitch! But,
was she young, and as beautiful as an angel, I am engaged; I am all,
soul and body, my Emmas: nor would I change her for all this world
could give me.

I would not have Horatia think of a dog. I shall not bring her one;
and, I am sure, she is better without a pet of that sort. But, she is
like her mother, would get all the old dogs in the place about her.

April 14th.

I am so sea-sick, that I cannot write another line; except, to
say--God Almighty bless you, my dearest beloved Emma! prays, ever,
your faithful

NELSON & BRONTE.

LETTER XLII.

Victory, April 2d, 1804.

I have, my Dearest Beloved Emma, been so uneasy for this last month;
desiring, most ardently, to hear of your well doing!

Captain Capel brought me your letters, sent by the Thisbe, from
Gibraltar. I opened--opened--found none but December, and early in
January. I was in such an agitation! At last, I found one without a
date: which, thank God! told my poor heart, that you was recovering;
but, that dear little Emma was no more! and, that Horatia had been so
very ill--it all together upset me.

But, it was just at bed-time; and I had time to reflect, and be
thankful to God for sparing you and our dear Horatia. I am sure,
the loss of one--much more, both--would have drove me mad. I was so
agitated, as it was, that I was glad it was night, and that I could be