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Dear Nephew,
Mr. Morgan has been so kind as to forward your two letters, one from Dublin, and the other from London, letting me know he would execute any commissions I should have for you.
No uncle would serve you with greater pleasure were it in my power. [About 20 lines here more or less destroyed.]
You will always find me full of truth and candour — I must tell you also I am tired of Ireland, and have had it sometime in my mind to go and end my life in France, which I propose doing before it is a year; as I think the air will agree better with me there; and I shall be more retired to take care of my soul, which ought to be my greatest care at present. I have lost near 1000 ponds sterling which I lent on bad security. This has made me angry with my own country. [18 lines here following are destroyed.]
Our arms are ‘three pheons argent in sable — a Helmet on the wreath — the crest a greyhound’s head coupe argent, in sable, collar and chain, with the motto in the ribband. ‘In corda inimicorum Regis’. [underscored]
You may be always sure of any service in my power. This with my love to my niece.
Your affectionate uncle
(Sd) John Forstall