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I will write once more in my usual
strain, mingling compliment with grievance. Not that I at all desire to
follow up the first words of greeting with disagreeable subjects, but
things seem to be always happening which a man of my order and in my
position can neither mention without unpleasantness, nor pass over without
neglect of duty. Yet I do my best to remember the burdensome and delicate
sense of honour which makes you so ready to blush for others' faults. The
bearer of this is an obscure and humble person, so harmless,
insignificant, and helpless that he seems to invite his own discomfiture;
his grievance is that the Bretons are secretly enticing his slaves away.
Whether his indictment is a true one, I cannot say; but, if you can only
confront the parties and decide the matter on its merits, I think the
unfortunate man may be able to make good his charge, if indeed a stranger
from the country unarmed, abject and impecunious to boot, has ever a
chance of a fair or kindly hearing against adversaries with all the
advantages he lacks, arms, astuteness, turbulences, and the aggressive
spirit of men backed by numerous friends. Farewell.
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