not, since I think, except one wretch, I hate nothing so much? Self, then, be banished from self one moment (for I doubt it will for no longer) to enquire after a dearer object, my beloved Anna Howe !-Whose mind, all robed in spotless white, charms and irradiates-But what would I say?

And how, my dearest friend, after this rhapsody, which, on re-perusal, I would not let go, but to show you what a distracted mind dictates to my trembling pen; How do you? You have been very ill, it seems. That you are recovered, my dear, let me hear. That your mother is well, pray let me hear, and hear quickly. This comfort surely is owing to me; for if life is no worse than chequerwork, I must now have a little white to come, having seen nothing but black, all unchequered dismal black, for a great, great while.

And what is all this wild incoherence for? It is only to beg to know how you have been, and how you now do, by a line directed for Mrs. Rachel Clark, at Mr. Smith's, a glove-shop, in King Street, Covent Garden; which (although my abode is secret to everybody else) will reach the hands of-Your unhappy-but that's not enough

Your miserable

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

M

MRS. HOWE TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE.

(Superscribed as directed in the preceding.)

Friday, June 30.

ISS CLARISSA HARLOWE.-You will wonder to receive a letter from me. I am sorry for the great distress you seem to be in. Such a hopeful young lady as you were!-But see what comes of disobedience to parents!

For my part; although I pity you, yet I much more pity your poor father and mother. Such education as they gave you! Such improvements as you made! And such delight as they took in you! And all come to this!

But pray, miss, don't make my Nancy guilty of your fault; which is that of disobedience. I have charged her over and over not to correspond with one who has made such a giddy step. It is not to her reputation, I am sure. You know that I so charged her; yet you go on corresponding together, to my very great vexation; for she has. been very perverse upon it, more than once. Evil communication, miss-you know the rest.

I write a long letter, where I proposed to say but a few words; and those to forbid you writing to my Nancy: And this as well because of the false step you have made, as because it will grieve her poor heart, and do you no good. If you love her, therefore, write not to her. Your sad letter came into my hands, Nancy being abroad; and I shall not show it her: for there would be no comfort for her, if she saw it, nor for me, whose delight she is—As you once was to your parents

But you seem to be sensible enough of your errors now. So are all giddy girls, when it is too late And what a crest-fallen figure then do the consequences of their self-willed obstinacy and headstrongness compel them to make!

I may say too much only as I think it proper to bear that testimony against your rashness which it behoves every careful parent to bear: And none more than

Your compassionating well-wisher,

ANNABELLA HOWE.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO MRS. HOWE.

Saturday, July 1.

ERMIT me, madam, to trouble you with a few lines, were it only to thank you for your

reproofs; which have nevertheless drawn fresh streams of blood from a bleeding heart.

My story is a dismal story. It has circumstances in it, that would engage pity, and possibly a judgment not altogether unfavourable, were those circumstances known. But it is my business, and shall be all my business, to repent of my failings, and not endeavour to extenuate them.

Nor will I seek to distress your worthy mind. If I cannot suffer alone, I will make as few parties as I can in my sufferings. And, indeed, I took up my pen with this resolution when I wrote the letter which has fallen into your hands. It was only to know, and that for a very particular reason, as well as for affection unbounded, if my dear Miss Howe, from whom I had not heard for a long time, were ill; as I had been told she was; and if So, how she now does. But my injuries being recent, and my distresses having been exceeding great, self would crowd into my letter. When distressed, the human mind is apt to turn itself to every one in whom it imagined or wished an interest, for pity and consolation.—Or, to express myself better and more concisely, in your own words, misfortune makes people plaintive: And to whom, if not to a friend, can the afflicted complain?

Miss Howe being abroad when my letter came, I flatter myself that she is recovered. But it would be some satisfaction to me to be informed if she has been ill. Another line from your hand would be too great a favour: But, if you will be pleased to direct any servant

to answer yes, or no, to that question, I will not be farther troublesome.

Nevertheless, I must declare, that my Miss Howe's friendship was all the comfort I had or expected to have in this world; and a line from her would have been a cordial to my fainting heart. Judge then, dearest madam, how reluctantly I must obey your prohibition-But yet, I will endeavour to obey it; although I should have hoped, as well from the tenor of all that has passed between Miss Howe and me, as from her established virtue, that she could not be tainted by evil communication, had one or two letters been permitted. This, however, I ask not for, since I think I have nothing to do, but to beg of God (who, I hope, has not yet withdrawn his grace from me, although he is pleased to let loose his justice upon my faults) to give me a truly broken spirit, if it be not already broken enough, and then to take to his mercy

The unhappy

CLARISSA HARLOWE.

Two favours, good madam, I have to beg of you.-The first;—that you will not let any of my relations know, that you have heard from me. The other, that no living creature be apprised where I am to be heard of, or directed to. This is a point that concerns me, more than I can express. In short, my preservation from further evils may depend upon it.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE TO LADY BETTY LAWRENCE.

M

Thursday June 29. ADAM,-I hope you'll excuse the freedom of this address, from one who has not the honour

to be personally known to you, although you must have heard much of Clarissa Harlowe. It is only to beg the favour of a line from your ladyship's hand (by

the next post, if convenient) in answer to the following questions:

1. Whether you wrote a letter, dated, as I have a memorandum, Wednesday, June 7, congratulating your nephew Lovelace on his supposed nuptials, as reported to you by Mr. Spurrier, your ladyship's steward, as from one Captain Tomlinson -and in it reproaching Mr. Lovelace, as guilty of slight, &c. in not having acquainted your ladyship and the family with his marriage?

2. Whether your ladyship wrote to Miss Montague to meet you at Reading, in order to attend you to your cousin Leeson's in Albemarle Street; on your being obliged to be in town on your old Chancery affair, I remember are the words? And whether you bespoke your nephew's attendance there on Sunday night the 11th ?

3. Whether your ladyship and Miss Montague did come to town at that time? And whether you went to Hampstead, on Monday, in a hired coach and four, your own being repairing; and took from thence to town the young creature whom you visited there?

Your ladyship will probably guess, that these questions are not asked for reasons favourable to your nephew Lovelace. But be the answer what it will, it can do him no hurt, nor me any good; only that I think I owe it to my former hopes (however deceived in them) and even to charity, that a person, of whom I was once willing to think better, should not prove so egregiously abandoned, as to be wanting, in every instance, to that veracity which is an indispensable in the character of a gentleman.

Be pleased, Madam, to direct to me (keeping the direction a secret for the present) to be left at the Belle Savage on Ludgate Hill, till called for. I am

Your ladyship's most humble servant,

CLARISSA HARLOWE.