Don’t forget our last conversation. I have indulged in it in my most distressing moments. What a spur it has been to exertion I leave you to guess.
Adieu; kindest love to my dear Father, Emily, Uncle Wm., etc., etc., etc., from, Dearest Mother, Your most truly Affectionate
Wm. Warre.
P.S.—Pray buy me some worsted socks very long in the feet, I am almost naked as to foot, having worn my present pair at least ten days.
Lisbon, March 3, 1809.
My Dearest Father,
We arrived here yesterday, safe and well, after a very pleasant voyage of 8 days. The Portuguese are in high spirits, and promise well. They have had some skirmishing on the Minho, and repulsed the French, whose numbers we know nothing certain of. Of course these accounts are much exaggerated, but if they can be made to think they can resist, and stand fire, it is a great point.
As to our own destination I as yet know nothing. The Portuguese army is on the frontier towards Monte Rey. I suppose we shall join them. Romana is near there, and, I hear, has collected a considerable force, and is in spirits as is the Marquez de Valliadacen, who is with them. It is, it seems, the general opinion that the French under Thomier, about 10,000 men, will endeavour to penetrate by the Minho, and that the Portuguese are determined to give them fight. By the last accounts from the frontier not a Frenchman had passed it. Something may yet be done.