that happy knack of making every thing you write interesting. Here I
am, one day precisely like the other; except the difference of a gale
of wind, or not.

Since September 1st, we have not had four fine days; and, if the
French do not come out soon, I fear, some of my ships will cry out.

You are very good, to send me your letters to read.

Mrs. D---- is a damned pimping bitch! What has she to do with your
love? She would have pimped for Lord B----, or Lord L----, or Captain
M'N----, * * * * of * * * *, or any one else. She is all vanity:
fancies herself beautiful; witty; in short, like you. She be damned!

As I wrote you, the consulship at Civita Vecchia will not, in itself,
pay their lodgings; and, the bad air will tip her off.

There will be no Lord Bristol's table. He tore his last will, a few
hours before his death. It is said, that it was giving every thing to
those devils of Italians about him.

I wish he may have given Mrs. Denis any thing; but, I do not think it:
and, as for you, my dear Emma, as long as I can, I don't want any of
their gifts.

As for old Q. he may put you into his will, or scratch you out, as he
pleases, I care not.

If Mr. Addington gives you the pension, it is well; but, do not let it
fret you. Have you not Merton? It is clear--the first purchase--and my
dear Horatia is provided for: and, I hope, one of these days, that you
will be my own Duchess of Bronte; and, then, a fig for them all!

I have just had a letter from Gibbs, of which I send you a copy. You
see what interest he is taking about Bronte.

I begin to think, without some assistance like his, that I never
should have touched a farthing. It will be 1805, before I touch the
estate. Neither principal or interest of the seven thousand ounces
have been paid; and, it is now eight thousand ounces debt.

You will see, Gibbs, at last, has fixed on sending his daughter home;
and I shall be glad of so good an opportunity of obliging him, as it
will naturally tie him to my interest. He was a great fool, not to
have sent the child with you, as you wished.

I am glad to find, my dear Emma, that you mean to take Horatia home.
_Aye_! she is like her mother; will have her own way, or kick up a
devil of a dust. But, you will cure her: I am afraid I should spoil
her; for, I am sure, I would shoot any one who would hurt her.

She was always fond of my watch; and, very probably, I might have
promised her one: indeed, I gave her one, w