of deadening it--at
present it is most painfully active. I find I am not equal to these
continual struggles--yet your letter this morning has afforded me some
comfort--and I will try to revive hope. One thing let me tell you--when
we meet again--surely we are to meet!--it must be to part no more. I mean
not to have seas between us--it is more than I can support.

The pilot is hurrying me--God bless you.

In spite of the commodiousness of the vessel, every thing here would
disgust my senses, had I nothing else to think of--"When the mind's free,
the body's delicate;"--mine has been too much hurt to regard trifles.

Yours most truly

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER L.

Saturday.

THIS is the fifth dreary day I have been imprisoned by the wind, with
every outward object to disgust the senses, and unable to banish the
remembrances that sadden my heart.

How am I altered by disappointment!--When going to ----, ten years ago,
the elasticity of my mind was sufficient to ward off weariness--and the
imagination still could dip her brush in the rainbow of fancy, and sketch
futurity in smiling colours. Now I am going towards the North in search
of sunbeams!--Will any ever warm this desolated heart? All nature seems
to frown--or rather mourn with me.--Every thing is cold--cold as my
expectations! Before I left the shore, tormented, as I now am, by these
North east _chillers_, I could not help exclaiming--Give me, gracious
Heaven! at least, genial weather, if I am never to meet the genial
affection that still warms this agitated bosom--compelling life to linger
there.

I am now going on shore with the captain, though the weather be rough,
to seek for milk, &c. at a little village, and to take a walk--after
which I hope to sleep--for, confined here, surrounded by disagreeable
smells, I have lost the little appetite I had; and I lie awake, till
thinking almost drives me to the brink of madness--only to the brink, for
I never forget, even in the feverish slumbers I sometimes fall into, the
misery I am labouring to blunt the the sense of, by every exertion in my
power.

Poor ------ still continues sick, and ------ grows weary when the weather
will not allow her to remain on deck.

I hope this will be the last letter I shall write from England to
you--are you not tired of this lingering adieu?

Yours truly

* * * *

* * * * *

LETTER LI.

Sunday Morning.