I am going to write this afternoon to Captain James, a friend of one of my sons, who has, I hear, been severely wounded at Trafalgar, to request him to honour me by accepting Mr.Horner's situation." "A Captain James! A captain in the navy! going to manage your ladyship's estate!" "If he will be so kind.

I shall esteem it a condescension on his part; but I hear that he will have to resign his profession, his state of health is so bad, and a country life is especially prescribed for him.

I am in some hopes of tempting him here, as I learn he has but little to depend on if he gives up his profession." "A Captain James! an invalid captain!" "You think I am asking too great a favour," continued my lady.

(I never could tell how far it was simplicity, or how far a kind of innocent malice, that made her misinterpret Mr.Smithson's words and looks as she did.) "But he is not a post-captain, only a commander, and his pension will be but small.

I may be able, by offering him country air and a healthy occupation, to restore him to health." "Occupation! My lady, may I ask how a sailor is to manage land?
Why, your tenants will laugh him to scorn." "My tenants, I trust, will not behave so ill as to laugh at any one I choose to set over them.