Mr. Powis to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.
“The first moment I can tear myself from the tender embraces of all my hopes;—the first moment I can leave my belov’d daughter, I come to Dover;—I come to acknowledge my gratitude to the noble-minded Molesworth—I come to testify my affection to the generous, disinterested Lord Darcey.—We pray for the recovery of his. Lordship’s health.—When that is establish’d, not one wish will be wanting to complete the felicity of
The more I know of this family, the more I admire them.—I must be their neighbour, that’s certain—Suppose I petition for a little spot at one end of the park; suppose you throw up your commission; and we live together two snug batchelors.
Darcey vows he will go to Town next week.—If fatigue should cause him to relapse, what will become of us then?—But I will not think of that now.
We shall come down a joyful, cavalcade to the Abbey.—I long to see the doors thrown open to receive us.—School-boy like, I shall first count days;—next hours;—then minutes: though I am your’s the same here, there, and every where.
The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to the same.
Build in the park, and live batchelors!—Pish!—A horrid scheme!—I give it up.—Over head and ears, Dick!
Last Monday arriv’d at his Lordship’s house in St. James’s-Square, the Right Honourable the Earl and Countess of Hampstead,—Lord Hallum,—the Ladies Elizabeth and Sophia Curtis.
True, as I hope to be sav’d;—and as true, that Lady Elizabeth and Sophia are blooming as angels.
Three times have I sat down, pen in my hand, paper folded, yet could not tune my mind to write one word.—Over head and ears! I say.—
Past one in the morning!—All silent! Let me try if I can scribble now.
First, I must tell you the body drove on shore at Dover, which I concluded was Miss Powis’s, is discover’d to be a Miss Frances Walsh, going over in the yacht which was unfortunately cast-away;—the corpse much defac’d:—but what confirm’d it to be the body of Miss Powis, was a handkerchief taken from the neck mark’d F W.—Poor young Lady! her friends, perhaps are suffering the excesses of grief which you and I have so lately witness’d.—But this is a subject I shall not dwell on.
I came to Town this evening with Darcey:—he bore the journey very poorly;—sinking, fainting, all the way.—When we got to our lodgings, and he was put into a bed, recovering a little, he press’d me to go to the Banker’s.—I saw his impatience, and went immediately.