I had just opened the chest on Saturday, when Mr. Mackie came for dinner; and soon after arrived Captain Irwin, to whom I handed his letters, which were packed up along with mine, and we made a regular evening's feast, whilst Mackie, in the meantime, picked fragments of old news out of the papers.
My first feelings are those of humiliation and shame—for having entertained even a passing doubt of the strength and constancy of your affections, and deep regret at the consciousness of being so undeserving of the affectionate terms in which you all express yourselves, and of the kind and considerate acts by which those expressions are confirmed and realised.
I sat down several times since to write, but could not arrange my ideas; I wanted to say something PARTICULAR to each of you; I still wish it; but how to do justice to my own feelings and your affections! * * * * * * * * * * *
The chest was admirably packed and secured, but the moths forced an entrance; and I am sorry to say their taste led them to some of the choisest morsels. It is remarkable that they do not appear to have touched anything of blue coloured cloth; that of olive colour has suffered wofully: a very handsome olive coat, which you sent me, has been sadly riddled by them, and I am not chemist enough to unriddle the cause of this preference. This,
