time. We are just recovering from tumult and train oil, and
transparent fripperies, and all the noise and nonsense of victory.
Drury Lane had a large _M.W._, which some thought was Marshal
Wellington; others, that it might be translated into Manager
Whitbread; while the ladies of the vicinity of the saloon conceived
the last letter to be complimentary to themselves. I leave this to
the commentators to illustrate. If you don't answer this, I sha'n't
say what _you_ deserve, but I think _I_ deserve a reply. Do you
conceive there is no Post-Bag but the Twopenny? Sunburn me, if you
are not too bad."

* * * * *

LETTER 125. TO MR. MOORE.

"July 13. 1813.

"Your letter set me at ease; for I really thought (as I hear of
your susceptibility) that I had said--I know not what--but
something I should have been very sorry for, had it, or I, offended
you;--though I don't see how a man with a beautiful wife--_his own_
children,--quiet--fame--competency and friends, (I will vouch for a
thousand, which is more than I will for a unit in my own behalf,)
can be offended with any thing.

"Do you know, Moore, I am amazingly inclined--remember I say but
_inclined_--to be seriously enamoured with Lady A.F.--but this * *
has ruined all my prospects. However, you know her; is she
_clever_, or sensible, or good-tempered? either _would_ do--I
scratch out the _will_. I don't ask as to her beauty--that I see;
but my circumstances are mending, and were not my other prospects
blackening, I would take a wife, and that should be the woman, had
I a chance. I do not yet know her much, but better than I did.

"I want to get away, but find difficulty in compassing a passage in
a ship of war. They had better let me go; if I cannot, patriotism
is the word--'nay, an' they'll mouth, I'll rant as well as they.'
Now, what are you doing?--writing, we all hope, for our own sakes.
Remember you must edite my posthumous works, with a Life of the
Author, for which I will send you Confessions, dated, 'Lazaretto,'
Smyrna, Malta, or Palermo--one can die any where.

"There is to be a thing on Tuesday ycleped a national fete. The
Regent and * * * are to be there, and every body else, who has
shillings enough for what was once a guinea. Vauxhall is the
scene-