LETTER EIGHTEEN.
London,
My Dear Sister,
We received your last kind parcel this afternoon. We received the other two both together last Wednesday, all safe. We are glad that you are all still pretty well at Birmingham. I am about as I have been for the last month or two. Clarinda is very unwell. She went to a physician to-day, who prescribed her some medicine, which she has got from the druggist's. I trust she will soon be better. We are both, notwithstanding this, in good spirits, and much happier than we have been. The saw, I think, is a prime one. My 'Farewell' will appear in the Village Magazine for next month (Tyas, Cheapside). Hornblower works on it, and has struck me off a few copies, some of which I send to you. You will see that the editor of the journal has sadly mutilated it, but I do not think he has altered it for the 'worser.'
With respect to my brothers, I hope they have no unkind feelings towards me. I know no reason why they should, and I trust they have not. I love them both and I sincerely wish they may possess all the happiness this life can afford. And now with respect to the portrait. I had not a shilling left this morning, except the 7s. you sent to pay for it, just enough to take us to Gravesend, therefore I think you will not blame me for not applying the money to the purpose you intended, as I had none to pay the dock charges on my baggage when I got to Gravesend. My boxes were put on board in London last Friday. It was a misunderstanding of mine that I should have to go to Gravesend with the baggage. The ship lay in the London Dock till within this last day or two. I do not think it will be practicable to write again before I arrive at the Cape of Good Hope. I am not sure of landing at Plymouth, as the ship will be out at anchor, so that I should have to go on shore by a boat, which, of course, I should have to pay for.
Tuesday morning, six o'clock.
We shall be on our way down the river to join the ship at Gravesend now in an hour or two. Clarinda is rather better this morning than yesterday. We shall sail to-morrow^ but may be six or seven days before we get round the coast to Plymouth, if we have unfavourable winds, and we may get there in two days. You may expect to hear from us in about four months, and again in about a year. The name of the ship is Strathfieldsaye—a queer name, is it not? We have every prospect of a good voyage. I would have had the portrait done when I received your parcel yesterday afternoon, but there was not time, so I hope you will pardon my not doing so. Some of the men at the manufactory have made me little presents, when leaving them, altogether to the amount of more than one pound—not in money, you know—but little articles of their own making, including a very beautiful ivory pocket tablet.
I hope you will enjoy health and unlocked for prosperity till you hear from me again, and till I hear from you, I have not much more time now. If any of you should ever have to come to London you cannot do better than to get lodging, if you can, at our house in Kirby-street, but I will give you another address, in case Irvines should be gone away: Mr. Stentake, tailor. Red Lion Court, Charter House Lane. This is where Hornblower lodges, and they seem to be very decent people—a sort by no means very common in London. Kirby-street, Hatton Garden, is a very respectable street, but London is such that the next street to it is full of thieves, Jews, and evil persons. The name of it is Field-lane. You will remember this if you should ever read 'Oliver Twist.' I must now conclude. May God bless you, my dear, dear sister. You will look out for the news from sea, to learn whether we arrive safe. And should we never meet again in this world, may we meet in a better, and should you never hear from me again, may God reward you for all you have done for me. Farewell.
Yours most affectionately,