withdraw every half hour to write, if I am admitted to the lady's presence, or if I am with the colonel.

Smith's, eight in the morning.

The lady is in a slumber. Mrs. Lovick, who sat up with her, says, she had a better night than was expected: for although she slept little, she seemed easy; and the easier for the pious frame she was in; all her waking moments being taken up in devotion, or in an ejaculatory silence; her hands and eyes often lifted up, and her lips moving with a fervor worthy of these her last hours.

Ten o'clock.

The colonel being earnest to see his cousin as soon as she awoke, we were both admitted. We observed in her, as soon as we entered, strong symptoms of her approaching dissolution,notwithstanding what the women had flattered us with from her last night's tranquillity. The colonel and I, each loth to say what we thought, looked upon one another with melancholy countenances.

The colonel told her, He should send a servant to her uncle Antony's for some papers he had left there; and asked, If she had any commands that way?

She thought not, she said, speaking more inwardly than she did the day before. She had indeed a letter ready to be sent to her good Norton; and there was a request intimated in it: but it was time enough, if the request were signified to those whom it concerned when all was over. However, it might be sent then by the servant who was going that way. And she caused it to be given to the colonel for that purpose.

Her breath being very short, she desired another pillow. Having two before, this made her in a manner sit up in her bed; and she spoke then with

more distinctness; and, seeing us greatly concerned, forgot her own sufferings to comfort us; and a charming lecture she gave us, though a brief one, upon the happiness of a timely preparation, and upon the hazards of a late repentance, when the mind, as she observed, was so much weakened, as well as the body, as to render a poor soul hardly able to contend with its natural infirmities.

I beseech ye, my good friends, proceeded she, mourn not for one who mourns not, nor has cause to mourn, for herself. On the contrary, rejoice with me, that all my worldly troubles are so near their end. Believe me, sirs, that I would not, if I might, choose to live, although the pleasantest part of my life were to come over again: and yet eighteen years of it, out of nineteen, have been very pleasant. To be so much exposed to temptation, and to be so liable to fail in the trial, who would not rejoice, that all her dangers are over!-All I wished was pardon and blessing from my dear parents. Easy as my departure seems to promise to be, it would have been still easier, had I had that pleasure. But GOD ALMIGHTY WOULD NOT LET ME DEPEND FOR COMFORT UPON ANY BUT HIMSELF.

She then repeated her request, in the most earnest manner, to her cousin, that he would not heighten her fault, by seeking to avenge her death; to me, that I would endeavour to make up all breaches, and use the power I had with my friend, to prevent all future mischiefs from him, as well as that which this trust might give me, to prevent any to him.

She made some excuses to her cousin, for having not been able to alter her will, to join him in the executorship with me; and to me for the trouble she had given, and yet should give me.

She had fatigued herself so much (growing sen

sibly weaker) that she sunk her head upon her pillows, ready to faint; and we withdrew to the window, looking upon one another, but could not tell what to say; and yet both seemed inclinable to speak: but the motion passed over in silence. Our eyes only spoke; and that in a manner neither's were used to; mine, at least, not till I knew this admirable creature.

The colonel withdrew to dismiss his messenger, and send away the letter to Mrs. Norton. I took the opportunity to retire likewise; and to write thus far. And Joel returning to take it, I now close here.

Eleven o'clock.

LETTER XVIII.

MR. BELFORD.

IN CONTINUATION.

THE Colonel tells me, That he has written to Mr. John Harlowe by his servant, That they might spare themselves the trouble of debating about a reconciliation; for that his dear cousin would probably be no more, before they could resolve.'

He asked me after his cousin's means of subsisting; and whether she had accepted of any favour from me: He was sure, he said, she would not from you.

I acquainted him of the truth of her parting with some of her apparel.

This wrung his heart; and bitterly did he exclaim as well against you, as against her implacable relations.

He wished he had not come to England at all, or had come sooner; and hoped I would apprise him of the whole mournful story, at a proper season. He added, that he had thoughts when he came over, of fixing here for the remainder of his days: but

now as it was impossible his cousin could recover, he would go abroad again, and resettle himself at Florence or Leghorn.

* *

The lady has been giving orders, with great presence of mind, about her body; directing her nurse, and the maid of the house, to put her into her coffin as soon as she is cold. Mr. Beldford, she said, would know the rest by her will.

*

She has just now given from her bosom, where she always wore it, a miniature picture set in gold of Miss Howe: she gave it to Mrs. Lovick, desiring her to fold it up in white paper, and direct it, To Charles Hickman, Esq. and to give it to me, when she was departed, for that gentleman.

She looked upon the picture, before she gave it her-Sweet and ever amiable friend-companion— sister-lover! said she-and kissed it four several times, once at each tender appellation.

Your other servant is come.-Well may you be impatient!-Well may you!-But do you think I can leave off in the middle of a conversation, to run and set down what offers, and send it away piecemeal as I write ?-If I could, must I not lose one half, while I put down the other?

to

If

This event is nearly as interesting to me as it is you. you are more grieved than I, there can be but one reason for it; and that's at your heart! --I had rather lose all the friends I have in the world (yourself in the number) than this divine lady; and shall be unhappy whenever I think of her sufferings, and of her merit; though I have nothing to reproach myself by reason of the former.

I say not this, just now, so much to reflect upon you, as to express my own grief; though your

conscience, I suppose, will make you think otherwise.

Your poor fellow, who says, that he begs for his life in desiring to be dispatched back with a letter, tears this from me-else perhaps (for I am just sent for down) a quarter of an hour would make you— easy indeed-but certain-and that, in a state like yours, to a mind like yours, is a relief.

not

Thursday afternoon, 4 o'clock.

LETTER XIX.

MR. BELFORD TO RICHARD MOWBRAY, ESQ.

DEAR MOWBRAY,

Thursday afternoon.

I AM glad to hear you are in town. Throw yourself the moment this comes to your hand (if possible with Tourville) in the way of the man who least of all men deserves the love of the worthy heart; but most that of thine and Tourville: else, the news I shall most probably send him within an hour or two, will make annihilation the greatest blessing he has to wish for.

You will find him between Piccadilly and Kensington, most probably on horseback, riding backwards and forwards in a crazy way; or put up, perhaps, at some inn or tavern in the way; a waiter possibly, if so, watching for his servant's return to him from me.

*

His man Will is just come to me. this to you in his way back, and be Hie away in a coach, or any how. with him may save either his or a