As all our communication with Spain is at an end, I can now only
expect to hear from my own dear Emma by the very slow mode of
Admiralty vessels, and it is now more than two months since the John
Bull sailed.

I much fear, something has been taken; for they never would, I am
sure, have kept me so long in the dark. However, by management, and a
portion of good luck, I got the account from Madrid in a much shorter
space of time than I could have hoped for; and I have set the whole
Mediterranean to work, and think the fleet cannot fail of being
successful: and, if I had had the spare troops at Malta at my
disposal, Minorca would at this moment have had English colours
flying.

This letter, my dearest beloved Emma, goes--although in Mr. Marsden's
letter--such a roundabout way, that I cannot say all that my heart
wishes. Imagine every thing which is kind and affectionate, and you
will come near the mark.

Where is my successor? I am not a little surprised at his not
arriving! A Spanish war, I thought, would have hastened him. Ministers
could not have thought that I wanted to fly the service, my whole
life has proved the contrary; and, if they refuse me now: I shall most
certainly leave this country in March or April; for a few months rest
I must have, very soon. If I am in my grave, what are the mines of
Peru to me!

But, to say the truth, I have no idea of killing myself. I may, with
care, live yet to do good service to the state. My cough is very bad;