hich cost sixpence! But,
I go no where to get any thing pretty; therefore, do not think me
neglectful.

I send you Noble's letter; therefore, I hope you will get your cases
in good order: they have had some narrow escapes.

I am glad you liked South End.

How that Coffin could come over, and palaver, Rowley, Keith, &c. and
Coffin to abuse the Earl! Now, I can tell you, that he is the Earl's
spy.

It is Coffin, who has injured Sir Andrew Hammond so much: and his
custom is, to abuse the Earl, to get people to speak out; and, then,
the Earl takes his measures accordingly.

To me, it is nothing. Thank God! there can be no tales told of my
cheating; or, I hope, neglecting my duty. Whilst I serve, I will serve
well, and closely; when I want rest, I will go to Merton.

You know, my dear Emma, that I am never well when it blows hard.
Therefore, imagine what a cruize off Toulon is; even in summer time,
we have a hard gale every week, and two days heavy swell.

It would kill you; and myself, to see you. Much less possible, to have
Charlotte, Horatia, &c. on board ship!

And I, that have given orders to carry no women to sea in the Victory,
to be the first to break them!

And, as to Malta, I may never see it, unless we have an engagement;
and, perhaps, not then: for, if it is _complete_, I may go home, for
three months, to see you; but, if you was at Malta, I might absolutely
miss you, by leaving the Mediterranean without warning.

The other day, we had a report the French were out, and seen steering
to the westward. We were as far as Minorca, when the alarm proved
false.

Therefore, my dearest beloved Emma! although I should be the happiest
of men, to live and die with you, yet my chance of seeing you is much
more certain by your remaining at Merton, than wandering where I may
never go; and, certainly, never to stay forty-eight hours.

You cannot, I am sure, more ardently long to see me, than I do to be
with you; and, if the war goes on, it is my intention to get leave to
spend the _next winter_ in England: but I verily believe that, long
before that time, we shall have peace.

As for living in Italy, that is entirely out of the question. Nobody
cares for us, there; and, if I had Bronte--which, thank God! I shall
not--it would cost me a fortune to go there, and be tormented out of
my life. I should never settle my affairs there.

I know, my own dear Emma, if she will let her reason have fair play,
will say, I a