I received your very affectionate letter with the
sincerest transport, and take the earliest opportunity of answering it. Though
of late not unused to general adulation, when I pictured that angelic semblance
I had once seen, writing my encomium, the flattery, I confess, was of the most
pleasing kind. Did I not know your taste and accomplishments, indeed, in my
opinion unrivalled, the pleasure would be less. Why not mention my dear
Olivia? Why not tell me more of
your, I may say my, father, for as such
I shall ever respect him. I have a thousand things to say, so expect nothing
but incoherency. First for the army:—I am not now in commission, being
put on half-pay after the reducement of the corps. I have lost the use of my
left hand, and received two wounds more, being in five different engagements;
however, I do not know but I shall be promoted, having lately had a line from
His Royal Highness the Duke—of this you shall hear more. Now for
literature; besides the little volume you have seen, there have been two
satirical poems of mine, published under the signature of “Mauritius
Moonshine;” one, the Battle of the Bards, the other, More
Wonders, besides a variety of biographical and critical
pieces in the monthly publications. I have just transcribed another volume of
| 202 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Your epistle is much more poetical than some modern compositions in rhyme. Direct to me,
“No. 28, Stratton Ground,
“Westminster, London.”
