City Road. July 11th 1805
My Dear Mary
Your parcell was brought to us by a young man at Mr Evans's, who says that Mr Jeffery is gone for a few days down to Essex, and will be back again this week, and will call on me, and then proposes to set off for Worthing on Monday next, so that I shall probably be with you on Tuesday. The parcell came too late for the Birthday, but yet it was highly welcome, and pleased all parties. Poor Charles's Letters are a curiosity. I send his epistle to the Doctor, by post. I have not much news this time, but I have much to talk of when I come. They tell me I grow thin, and I am neither quite well, nor quite happy, and with this broken and unsocial kind of life I doubt I shall remain so during the Summer. But we will talk of it next week. Mary and Charlotte are in high spirits, your Father midling. All send their love to you and Hannah and Charles.
Yours most truly
Rob Bloomfield.
P.S. The seaweeds are curious, and I prize them as coming from you and your handmaid.
Love to the sound and the lame.
RB