Page:Blanchard on L. E. L.pdf/175

Rh so much looking after. . .  .  .  .  At seven Mr. Maclean comes in from court—till then I never see a living creature, but the servants. . .  .  .  Mr. Maclean has been very ill—he caught cold from getting wet through when he landed in the dead of the night. I hope to hear good accounts from England; it makes me often very anxious to think what a distance I am, and what may have happened. I have just had a beautiful little gazelle given me, no bigger than a kitten, but it will be very difficult to keep alive. The weather is now very warm—the nights are so hot that you can only bear the lightest sheet over you. As to the beds; the mattresses are so hard, they are like iron—the damp is very destructive—the dew is like rain, and there are no fire-places; you would not believe it, but a grate would be the first of luxuries. Keys, scissors, everything rusts. I have been in the greatest trouble with Mr. Maclean's sudden and violent illness; for four nights I never laid down but on the floor by his bedside; he suffered very much, though there was no danger; he has never been quite well since he arrived. I think I was never so fatigued in my life as by the Dutch governor's visit—himself, his two aides-de-camp, and the dinner, really drove me to despair. The utter want of the commonest necessaries—no such thing as saucepan, jug, or pail; there was certainly plate, glass, and china, but a dinner requires something more. . .  .  Remember me to my cousin; I am glad you have seen Mrs. Thomson. Write to your affectionate ""

Such was her own account to relations, friends, and acquaintances, of her health, her feelings, her