LETTER VIII.


January 28, 1801.

What a fool I was, my dear Lady Hamilton, to direct that your cheering
letters should be directed for Brixham! I feel, this day, truly
miserable, in not having them; and, I fear, they will not come till
to-morrow's post.

What a blockhead, to believe any person is so active as myself! I
have this day got my orders, to put myself under Lord St. Vincent's
command: but, as no order is arrived to man the ship, it must be
Friday night, or Saturday morning, before she can sail for Torbay.
Direct my letters, now, to Brixham.

My eye is very bad. I have had the physician of the fleet to examine
it.

He has directed me not to write, (and yet I am forced, this day,
to write Lord Spencer, St. Vincent, Davison about my law-suit,
Troubridge, Mr. Locker, &c. but you are the only female I write to;)
not to eat any thing but the most simple food; not to touch wine or
porter; to sit in a dark room; to have green shades for my eyes--(will
you, my dear friend, make me one or two? Nobody else shall;)--and to
bathe them in cold water every hour. I fear, it is the writing has