Dear Holroyd,
I am much obliged to you for persisting to court a friend who has the appearance of neglecting you. But when you are told the reason of it, you will rather pity than blame me. It is my poor father's illness that confines me here, and cannot permit me to stir till the affair is decided: a confirmed Dropsy and Asthma which have either produced or been caused by a general decay of the constitution allows us no hope of his recovery.
You may easily suppose that I am in a very improper frame of mind for the easy flow of a familiar epistle. I shall therefore only speak to business. The men I spoke of are the two Smiths, the father who lives at Havant, and the son who lives at Wickham in this county. Both, especially the son, are famous for surveying and valuing Timber (the surveying land is a separate branch, and quite out of their way). My father has always had reason to be satisfied with their skill and honesty. Their price for surveying is a guinea a day, or so much in the pound (I don't know exactly what) if they sell the timber. I will make any further enquiries you desire, and in the meantime, wish you would sometimes raise my spirits by a friendly salutation.
I am, Dear H.,
Most truly yours,
E. G.
83.
To James Scott, Esq.
Beriton, November the 6th, 1770.
Dear Sir,
You, who have passed the summer with us, and a melancholy one it has been, are more sensible than any one else can possibly be, how difficult it is to give any account of my poor father. If I had wrote last week, I should have said that he was better than when you left Beriton, not indeed as to strength, but in regard to spirits, appetite, and sleep, the last of which was indeed procured him by a very gentle opiate of Mrs. Gibbon's. Now, on the contrary, I think him much worse. His breath is very bad, he is greatly swelled, and this morning had a fainting fit, which alarmed us exceedingly.