is
own relations, great as they are in the foolish world's eye, would
have left a man of his respectability and age, to have lodged in the
streets. Did the Duke, or any of them, give him a house _then_?

Forgive me! you know if any thing sticks in my throat, it must out.
Sir William owes his life to you; which, I believe, he will never
forget.

To return to the house--The furniture must be bought with it; and the
sooner it is done, the better I shall like it.

Oh! how bad the weather is!

The devils, here, wanted to plague my soul out, yesterday, just after
dinner; but I would have seen them damned, before they should have
come in. The Countess Montmorris, Lady this, that, and t'other, came
along-side, a Mr. Lubbock with them--to desire they might come in. I
sent word, I was so busy that no persons could be admitted, as my time
was employed in the King's service. Then they sent their names, which
I cared not for: and sent Captain Gore, to say it was impossible;
and that, if they wanted to see a ship, they had better go to the
Overyssel (a sixty-four in the Downs.) They said, no; they wanted
to see me. However, I was stout, and will not be shewn about like a
_beast_! and away they went.

I believe, Captain Gore wishes me out of his ship; for the _ladies_
admire him, I am told, very much: but, however, no Captain could be
kinder to me than he is. These ladies, he told me afterwards, were his
relations.

I have just got your letters; many thanks, for them! You do not say,
in the end, Sir William is arrived.

I am glad, that you approve. You may rely, my dear friend, that I will
not run any unnecessary risk! No more boat work, I promise you; but,
ever, your attached and faithful

NELSON & BRONTE.

To the Duke, and Lord William, say every thing which is kind; and to
Mrs. Nelson.

I am so dreadfully sea-sick, that I cannot hold up my head!

LETTER XVII.

September 21st, [1801.]
Quarter past Ten o'Clock.

MY DEAR EMMA,

I wish you would send the letter to Mrs. Dod's, directly; for,
otherwise, he may, inadvertently.

If done, and it comes to London, deliver some of the things. The
wardrobe is her's; and if any of her clothes are at Mr. Dod's, they
had better be separated from mine--and, indeed, what things are worth
removing--to have them directly sent to Merton. A bed, or two, I
believe, belong to my father; but, am not sure.

I send you Dr. Baird's comfortable note, this moment received.