ed into a boat and made their
escape, but Mr. Sterling, hearing that government threatened to
proceed against the captain of the captured vessel, came forward
and owned it as his property, and exonerated the man, as far as he
could, from any share of the blame attaching to an undertaking in
which he was an irresponsible instrument. Matters were in this
state, with a prosecution pending over John Sterling, when the
ministry was changed, and nothing further has been done or said by
government on the subject since.

My brother had gone off to Gibraltar previously to all this, to
take measures for facilitating their landing; he is now quietly and
I hope comfortably wintering there. Torrijos, it seems, is not at
all disheartened, but is waiting for the propitious moment, which,
however, from the appearance of things, I should not consider
likely to be at hand just yet. Mr. Sterling has, I understand, been
so seriously ill since his marriage that at one time his life was
despaired of, and even now that he is a little recovered he is
ordered to Madeira as soon as he can be moved. This is very sad for
his poor bride.

Of our home circle I have nothing to tell you. My father, Dall, and
I had a very delightful day on Saturday at Brighton. After a lovely
day's journey, we arrived there on Friday. Our companion in the
coach luckily happened to be a son of Dr. Burney's, who was an old
and intimate friend of my father's, and they discoursed together
the whole way along, of all sorts of events and people: of my uncle
John and my aunt Siddons, in their prime; of Mrs. Jordan and the
late king; of the present one, Harlow, Lawrence, and innumerable
other folk of note and notoriety. Among other things they had a
long discussion on the subject of Hamlet's feigned or--as my father
maintains and I believe--real madness; all this formed a very
amusing accompaniment to the history of Sir Launcelot du Lac, which
I was reading with much delight when I was not listening to their
conversation.

I like all that concerns the love adventures of these valorous
knights of yore; but their deadly blows and desperate thrusts,
their slashing, gashing, mashing, mangling, and hewing bore me to
death. The fate of Guinevere interested me deeply, but Sir
Launcelot's warlike exp