My uncle, in all likelihood, will purchase a magnificent seat, have a splendid establishment; and as a little time will remove any quaint prejudices which he may have contracted, he may keep a first-rate table, and see the best company if he is properly managed. The _great_ bore will be to watch him so vigilantly as to prevent his marrying. I am _sure_ that I know at least six regular sieges that will be commenced against the citadel of his purse, besides whatever masked batteries may be prepared to take him by surprise. It must be our care to be his _videttes_, and keep a strict guard upon the motions of the enemy, giving him notice upon every approach of danger. Well, I must go and dress: I hate the Opera, but we are forced to join a party of Lady Mildmay's, and Lord Clayton will not let us be off. _Adio mio Caro._ Say something civil to the goodies of the Glen. What sickly stuff is pastoral life! I yawn as I write the word. Heaven defend me from your Arcadias! I absolutely shudder at the notion of a golden age, cool grots, and mountain nymphs. That milk diet, too, is a sleepy, corpulent sort of thing. You will loose your _air de noblesse_, and we shall have to put you in training, and fine you down like a jockey before you are fit to be seen. Come quickly. _Bon repos._ _You_ are retiring to your slumbers, no doubt. Your mother and Ady said something, I suppose--loves, and so forth, but I'm not sure. Yours, ever, L. HOWARD. LETTER XI. GENERAL DOUGLAS TO MR. OTWAY. My dear old Friend, _Calcutta_.