maids, and so on. It is all, I dare say, as comfortable as a ship can be; but it has been painted, and has got its regular ship smell, and so, of course, before I had been there ten minutes I was dead sick, and Mary Eden was not much better. Very shocking, indeed!—well meant, but a failure!
I sometimes sit in blank despair, and wonder—quite posed as to what I am to do without you all—not to be able to sit down and scratch off a line to you, &c.; and then I feel as if I could cut somebody’s throat quite through—a sort of savage relief; in short, like ‘the Young Duke,’ ‘depend upon it, I am on the point of doing something desperate.’ The whole business is much worse than I expected, and that is saying a great deal.
I have had a beautiful letter from our King, which I would send you, only there is no time to get it back again, and it must serve as a character to our next place. He sent me a very long message by George, who told me to write my thanks, which I did in the most abject and affectionate style; and then, on Saturday, there came this farewell—really a beautifully-written letter—saying that, amongst his many other
