been down to look at the sea, and you never saw anything so shocking!—so rough and white. None of the officers of the ‘Jupiter’ can get off, even to dine on board; and we are obliged to stay here another night, from the impossibility of crossing to Ryde. I think there must have been several things I did not tell you from London for want of time.
I had such a pretty letter from Lord Melbourne on Tuesday, with a beautiful copy of ‘Milton.’ He says: ‘My mother always told me I was very selfish, man and boy, and I believe she was right. I always find some excuse for not doing what I am anxious to avoid. I cannot bear to come and bid you good-bye, for few events of my life have been so painful to me as your going. May God bless and keep you!’ He then says a great deal that is very kind, and that he sends me a ‘Milton,’ which he has often read in, and marked what he thought I should like; and he begs I will write constantly, and he will do the same. I do not think he is so heartless as he says; at least, he has been most constantly kind to us, and puts himself out of the way for it.
I think your journal plan a very good one,
