To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.
May 20, Evening.
_Io triumphe!_ A ship from England! You can have no idea of
the universal transport at the sight; the whole town was on the beach,
eagerly gazing at the charming stranger, who danced gaily on the waves,
as if conscious of the pleasure she inspired.
If our joy is so great, who preserve a correspondence with Europe,
through our other colonies, during the winter, what must that of the
French have been, who were absolutely shut up six months from the rest
of the world?
I can scarce conceive a higher delight than they must have felt at
being thus restored to a communication with mankind.
The letters are not delivered; our servant stays for them at the
post-office; we expect him every moment: if I have not volumes from
you, I shall be very angry.
He comes. Adieu! I have not patience to wait their being brought up
stairs.
Yours,
A. Fermor.
They are here; six letters from you; I shall give three of them to
Emily to read, whilst I read the rest: you are very good, Lucy, and I
will never call you lazy again.