“Early habits of temperance have not only saved my life, but made my life worth saving. Neither Colonel Gascoigne nor I have ever had a day’s serious illness since we came to the island--but we are the only two that have escaped. Partly from the colonel’s example, and partly from their own inclination, all the other officers have drunk hard. Lieutenant R---- is now ill of the fever; Captain H---- (I beg his pardon), now Major H----, will soon follow the colonel to the grave, unless he takes my very disinterested advice, and drinks less. I am laughed at by D---- and V----and others for this; they ask why the deuce I can’t let the major kill himself his own way, and as fast as he pleases, when I should get on a step by it, and that step such a great one. They say none but a fool would do as I do, and I think none but a brute could do otherwise--I can’t stand by with any satisfaction, and see a fellow-creature killing himself by inches, even though I have the chance of slipping into his shoes: I am sure the shoes would pinch me confoundedly. If it is my brother-officer’s lot to fall in battle--it’s very well--I run the same hazard--he dies, as he ought to do, a brave fellow; but to stand by, and see a man die as he ought not to do, and die what is called an _honest fellow_!--I can’t do it. H---- at first had a great mind to run me through the body; but, poor man, he is now very fond of me, and if any one can keep him from destroying himself, I flatter myself I shall. “A thousand thanks to dear Caroline for her letter, and to Rosamond for her journal. They, who have never been an inch from home, cannot conceive how delightful it is, at such a distance, to receive letters from our friends. You remember, in Cook’s voyage, his joy at meeting in some distant island with the spoon marked _London_. “I hope you received my letters, Nos. 1 and 2. Not that there was any thing particular in them. You know I never do more than tell the bare facts--not like Rosamond’s journal--with which, by-the-bye, Gascoigne has fallen in love. He sighs, and wishes that Heaven had blessed him with such a sister--for _sister_, read wife. I hope this will encourage Rosamond to write again immediately. No; do not tell what I have just said about Gascoigne, for--who knows the perverse ways of women?--perhaps it might prevent her from writing to me at all. You may tell her, in general, that it is my opinion ladies always write better and do every thing better than men--except fight, which Heaven forbid they should ever do in public or private! “I am glad that Caroline did not marry Mr. Barclay, since she did not like him; but by all accounts he is a sensible, worthy man, and I give my consent to his marriage with Lady Mary Pembroke, though, from Caroline’s description, I became half in love with her myself. N.B. I have not been in love above six times since I left England, and but once any thing to signify. How does the Marchioness of Twickenham go on?