‘My dear Papa,—I received your letter this morning. Thank you for it. My strength is much the same as when I saw you; my appetite is getting better a good deal. Mr. Smith saw me yesterday, and said it was a running pulse, but that he thought me better. I think if anything I am better than when I saw you. Thank you for the wine, which I have not yet received, but suppose it is at Bury. As for the bad news, I am tired of it. I want, and should very much like, a nice writing-box to hold pens, ink, paper, all my letters, &c., in short everything exact; this is just the thing for a birthday present. As for sweet things, I do not wish for them particularly; any little thing that you think wholesome I should be glad of. The weather [is] as yet so bad that I cannot stir out. Remember me to the party, and thank Mr. Kedington for waking me at six o’clock on the Monday morning. ‘Believe me, dear Papa, ‘Your dutiful Daughter, ‘M. YOUNG.’ _His Reply_ ‘My dear Bobbin,—I am much obliged to you for the description you gave me of your health, but I beg you will repeat it directly, and do not forget appetite, pulse, sleep, pains, swelled legs, fever, exercise on change of weather, thirst, &c., for I am extremely anxious to know how you go on. I have looked at a great many writing-boxes, but find none yet under 1_l._ 5_s._ and 1_l._ 11_s._ 6_d._, but I hear there are good ones to be had at 15_s._ The moment I can find one I will buy and send it packed full of seals, or something else. ‘Politics are melancholy, for the fleet is satisfied, the army is not, and the same spirit [there] would be dreadful. To-day, it is said, the Duke of York has declared the intention of raising the pay of Infantry, which is wise, but it may not be done to satisfy them, and in a moment they might be masters of the Tower, Bank, Parliament, &c.; however, let us hope that measures will be taken to prepare for the worst. The French will make no peace with us, but bring all their force to the coast and ruin us, if they can, by invasion expense. ‘I cannot read half your mother’s letter; but enough to see that she is very angry, for I know not what. I am not paid, and have nothing to send. ‘Dear Bobbin, ‘Yours affectionately, ‘A. Y.’ _Bobbin to her Father_