to my delight on returning from this voyage.
    I have always said that the nature of my situation
will take off from the distreƒs of absence; but I al-
-most begin to doubt it. Here is no one I can speak
to upon the subject. I have no sister, no mother,
no dear friend. I have a brother indeed, but the
nature of our respective situations almost debars
me from a close intimacy with him. I must sit
independent and impregnable; must acknowledge
no weakneƒs, no distreƒs, no fear. But when thy
    remembrance aƒsails me too powerfully
    and my eyes swell at the recollection,
I shall retire to the little bed, and vent my sorrow
to myself alone. After, on returning to society, I must
force a surly gloom into my countenance to for-
-bid all inquiry.
    I find a letter today from Thomas, dated on the 16^th
half of which is for you. He seems to think he shall be
in town shortly, and if you could remain a few days
would be glad to accompany you down.
    Write my love, write constantly. I have received
no orders yet, and am ^ ^as likely to remain longer, as
I was a fortnight back: yet, even today, my sailing
orders may have come down. I have no chance to avoid
severe recollection but by immersing into trouble and labour