Victory, July 1st, 1804.
Although I have wrote you, my dearest Emma, a letter, by Rosas, of June 27th, not yet gone, the weather being so very bad, that ships cannot get across the Gulph of Lyons, yet I will [not] miss the opportunity of writing by Gibraltar.
You must not, my Emma, think of hearing from me by way of Malta; it takes as long to send a letter to Malta, as to England.
The Monmouth, which you complain of not hearing by, I knew nothing of her movements for some months before. The ships from Malta, with the convoys, pick up our letters at Gibraltar. Therefore, do not hurt my feelings, by telling me that I neglect any opportunity of writing.
Your letters of April 13th, 22d, and May 13th, through Mr. Falconet, came safe, a few days ago. Mr. Falconet is the French banker; and he dare not buy a little macaroni for me, or let an Englishman into his house.
Gibbs is still at Palermo: I fancy, he will make a good thing of my estate; however, I wish it was settled. He wrote me, a short time since, that he wished I would give him a hint (but without noticing that it came from him) that I thought Mrs. Græfer and her child had better go to England; on pretence of educating her daughter, &c.
But I would have nothing to do with any such recommendation. It would end in her coming to me, in England; and saying, that she could not live upon what she had, and that I advised her to come to England, or she should not have thought of it.
In short, Gibbs wants to remove her. He is afraid of his pocket, I fancy; and the daughter is, I fancy, now in some seminary at Palermo, at Gibbs's expence.
I wrote him word, fully, I would advise no such thing; she was to form her own judgment.
What our friends are after at Naples, they best know. The poor King is miserable at the loss of Acton.