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I do not know whether I write intelligibly, for my head is diſturbed.—But this you ought to pardon—for it is with difficulty frequently that I make out what you mean to ſay—You write, I ſuppoſe, at Mr. ——'s after dinner, when your head is not the cleareſt—and as for your heart, if you have one, I ſee nothing like the dictates of affection, unleſs a glimpſe when you mention, the child.—Adieu!
LETTER LXVI
September 25.
I have juſt finiſhed a letter, to be given in charge to captain ———. In that I complained of your ſilence, and expreſſed my ſurpriſe that three mails ſhould have arrived without bringing a line for me. Since I cloſed it, I hear of another, and ſtill no letter.—I am labouring to write calmly—this ſilence is a refinement on cruelty. Had captain ——— remained a few days longer, I would have returned with him to England. What have I to do here? I have repeatedly written to you fully. Do you do the ſame—and quickly. Do not leave me in ſuſpenſe. I have not deſerved this of you. I cannot write, my mind is ſo diſtreſſed. Adieu!
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