As I dropped yesterday the word unwell , I flatter myself that the family would have been a little alarmed by my silence today. I am still awkward, though without any suspicions of gout, and have some idea of having recourse to medical advice. Yet I creep out today in a chair, to dine with Lord Lucan. But as it will be literally my first going downstairs, and as scarcely anyone is apprised of my arrival, I know nothing, I have heard nothing, I have nothing to say. My present lodging, a house of Elmsley's, is cheerful, convenient, somewhat dear, but not so much as an hotel, a species of habitation for which I have not conceived any great affection. Had you been stationary at Sheffield, you would have seen me before the twentieth; for I am tired of rambling, and pant for my home; that is to say, for your house. But whether I shall have courage to brave ***** and a bleak down, time only can discover. Adieu. I wish you back to Sheffield Place. The health of dear Louisa is doubtless the first object; but I did not expect Brighton after Tunbridge. Whenever dear little aunt is separate from you, I shall certainly write to her; but at present how is it possible? Ever yours.