ery service.

Capel--although, I am sure, very kind to younkers---I do not think,
has the knack of keeping them in high discipline; he lets them be
their own master too much.

I paid Charles's account, yesterday; since he has been in the Phoebe,
one hundred and fifty-five pounds, fourteen shillings. However, he
must now turn over a new leaf; and I sincerely hope, poor fellow, he
will yet do well.

I wrote you on the 22d, through Rosas, in Spain; and I shall write, in
a few days, by Barcelona: this goes by Gibraltar.

I have wrote Admiral Lutwidge; Mrs. Lutwidge must wait, for I cannot
get through all my numerous letters: for, whoever writes, although
upon their own affairs, are offended if they are not answered.

I have not seen young Bailey: I suppose, he is in the Leviathan. By
the parcel, I see, he is in the Canopus; and I can, at present, be of
no use to him.

May 30th.

Charles is very much recovered.

I write you, this day, by Barcelona. Your dear phiz--but not the least
like you--on the cup, is safe: but I would not use it, for the world;
for, if it was broke, it would distress me very much.

Your letters, by Swift, I shall never get back. The French Consul,
at Barcelona, is bragging that he has three pictures of you from the
Swift.

I do not believe him; but, what if he had a hundred! Your resemblance
is so deeply engraved in my heart, that there it can never be effaced:
and, who knows? some day, I may have the happiness of having a living
picture of you!

Old Mother L---- is a damned b----: but I do not understand what you
mean, or what plan.

I am not surprised at my friend Kingsmill admiring you, and forgetting
Mary; he loves variety, and handsome women.

You touch upon the old Duke; but, I am dull of comprehension:
believing you all my own, I cannot imagine any one else to offer, in
any way.

We have enough, with prudence; and, without it, we should soon be
beggars, if we had five times as much.

I see, Lord Stafford is going to oppose Mr. Addington; the present
ministry cannot stand.

I wish Mr. Addington had given you the pension; Pitt, and hard-hearted
Grenville, never will.

What a fortune the death of Lord Camelford gives him!

Every thing you tell me about my dear Horatia charms me. I think I see
her, hear her, and admire her; but, she is like her dear, dear mother.

I am sorry, if your account of George Martin's wife is correct; he
deserved a better fate. But, he is like F