Southampton, Oct. 3, 1795.
The happiness we enjoy by corresponding with those whom we esteem, when
separated from them, beyond the reach of personal intercourse, ranks
amongst the highest blessings of civilized life. It is to navigation and
the art of writing, those powerful engines which have established a
freedom of intercourse throughout the wide extent of the globe, that we
are indebted for the enjoyment of communicating with far distant
friends, and thereby rendering our separation less intolerable.
But you will too soon discover how much you have sacrificed your
judgment to your feelings, in so strenuously requiring frequent
communications, from me, during my absence from England. In the
correspondence which your kindness has exacted, you will have to
encounter a task, while all the advantages of amusement and instruction
will be mine. Still, as you have brought it upon yourself, you must be
content to see me your debtor, assured of my regret that the benefit, to
be derived, cannot be reciprocal. Did I even possess all the glowing and
happy talents necessary to descriptive narration, the busy employment of
my time, and the unsettled state of my mind, amidst the perpetual hurry
and uncertainty of military movements, must prevent me from observing,
and still more from relating what may pass before me, with accuracy; and
from being unable to mature my remarks by the recurrent eye of a
continued residence, they will necessarily be superficial and
undigested.
You can only expect the perusal of hasty notes, hastily collected, by an
observer whose time must be devoted to the duties of his appointment;
and whose movements and pauses must be regulated by those exigencies of
the army which more imperiously demand his attention.
But it were needless to enter into a detail of the allowances you will
have to make. You already know them: hence, as apologies are irksome to
you, I forego all further comment, and, meeting you as you desire,
proceed to my subject.
The adventures of a stage-coach are sometimes amusing, but it happened
that my journey, hither, was peculiarly devoid of incident, being,
merely, a dark nocturnal ride, without any thing to divert, or to
interest.
Amidst the stillness of night we rolled swiftly on, without impediment
or delay, always finding horses in readiness at the place of change.
Even the great business of eating and drinking was more than commonly
disregarded. No social hour of supper was observed: nor were our
conductors troubled with those frequent calls of thirst, which are,
commonly, so vexatious and annoying to the passengers. To reach the end
of the journey seemed alike the object of all.
We arrived at an early hour, and after taking the refreshment of a cold
ablution, and a plentiful breakfast, I proceeded, without delay, to head
quarters, to pay my respects to the commander in chief. It happened that
the inspector-general of hospitals was with Sir Ralph Abercromby, at the
time: I, therefore, reported my appointment to both; and put myself
under command.
From the quarters of the commander in chief, I accompanied the
inspector-general to visit the sick. This afforded me an early
opportunity of viewing the military hospital, and I have great pleasure
in remarking to you that it does much credit to the doctor’s[1] judgment
and industry. Placed in the direction of the medical department, his
exertions have demonstrated how essential it is to commit that important
appointment to an officer whose experience qualifies him for all the
various duties it demands. From a well-devised arrangement, forwarded by
a zealous and laudable industry, he has caused a large old building,
late a sugarhouse, to be converted into a commodious, and well-aired
hospital; where the sick are comfortably placed, duly attended, and
conveniently, as well as liberally accommodated.
The clock tells me it is midnight. Adieu!