give thee reason to repent the knowledge of me!" With this asseveration, made in the presence of a just God, I pray to him, that so it may speed with me, as I deal candidly and honourably with thee! I would not mislead thee, Eliza; I would not injure thee, in the opinion of a single individual, for the richest crown the proudest monarch wears. Remember, that, while I have life and power, whatever is mine, you may style, and think yours. Though sorry should I be, if ever my friendship was put to the test thus, for your own delicacy's sake. Money and counters are of equal use in my opinion; they both serve to set up with. I hope you will answer me this letter; but if thou art debarred by the elements, which hurry thee away, I will write one for thee; and knowing it is such a one as thou wouldest have written, I will regard it as my Eliza's. Honour, and happiness, and health, and comforts of every kind, sail along with thee, thou most worthy of girls! I will live for thee, and my Lydia - be rich, for the dear children of my heart-gain wisdom, gain fame, and happiness, to share with them thee and her, in my old age. with Once for all, adieu. Preserve thy life; steadily pursue the ends we proposed; and let nothing rob thee of those powers Heaven has given thee for thy well-being. - What can I add more, in the agitation of mind I am in, and within five minutes of the last postman's bell, but recommend thee to Heaven, and recommend myself to Heaven with thee, in the same fervent ejaculation, "that we may be happy, and meet again; if not in this world, in the next." Adieu, I am thine, Eliza, affectionately, and everlastingly, YORICK. I WISH to God, Eliza, it was possible to postpone the voyage to India for another year. For I am firmly persuaded, within my own heart, that thy husband could never limit thee with regard to time. I fear that Mr. B- has exaggerated matters. I like not his countenance It is absolutely killing.Should evil befal thee, what will he not have to answer for? I know not the being that will be deserving of so much pity, or that I shall hate more. He will be an outcast alien · In which case I will be a father to thy children, my good girl! therefore take no thought about them. Write to But, Eliza, if thou art so very ill, still put off all thoughts of returning to India this year. your husband tell him the truth of your case. he is the generous, humane man you describe him to be, he cannot but applaud your conduct. I am credibly informed that his repugnance to your living in England arises only from the dread, which has entered his brain, that thou mayest run him in debt, beyond thy appointments, and that he must discharge them that such a creature should be sacrificed for the paltry consideration of a few hundreds, is too, too hard! O! my child! that I could, with propriety, indemnify him for every charge, even to the last mite, that thou hast been of to him! With joy would I give him my whole subsistence nay, sequester my livings, and trust the treasures Heaven has furnished my head with for a further subsistence. You owe much, I allow, to your husband you owe something to appearances, and the opinion of the world; but trust me, my dear, you owe much likewise to yourself. Return, therefore, from Deal, if you continue ill. I will prescribe for you, gratis. You are not the first woman, by many, I have done so for, with success. I will send for my wife and daughter, and they shall carry you in pursuit of health, to Montpellier, the wells of Bançois, the Spa, or whither thou wilt. Thou shalt direct them, and make parties of pleasure in what corner of the world fancy points out to thee. We shall fish upon the banks of Arno, and lose ourselves in the sweet labyrinths of its vallies. And then thou should'st warble to us, as I have once or twice heard thee, "I'm lost, I'm lost," but we should find thee again, my Eliza. Of a similar nature to this, was your physician's prescription: "Use gentle exercise, the pure southern air of France, or milder Naples, with the society of friendly, gentle beings." Sensible man! He certainly entered into your feelings. He knew the fallacy of medicine to a creature whose ILLNESS HAS ARISEN FROM THE AFFLICTION OF HER MIND. Time only, my dear, I fear you must trust to, and have your reliance on; may it give you the health so enthusiastic a votary to the charming goddess deserves! I honour you, Eliza, for keeping secret some things, which, if explained, had been a panegyric on yourself. There is a dignity in venerable affliction which will not allow it to appeal to the world for pity or redress. Well have you supported that character, my amiable, philosophic friend! And, indeed, I begin to think you have as many virtues as my uncle Toby's widow. I don't mean to insinuate, hussey, that my opinion is no better founded than his was of Mrs. Wadman: nor do I conceive it possible for any Trim to convince me it my she has sold is equally fallacious. I am sure, while I have reason, it is not. Talking of widows pray, Eliza, if ever you are such, do not think of giving yourself to some wealthy nabob because I design to marry you myself. My wife cannot live long all the provinces in France already and I know not the woman I should like so well for her substitute as yourself. 'Tis true, I am ninety-five in constitution, and you but twenty-five rather too great a disparity this! but what I want in youth, I will make up in wit and good-humour. Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron his Maintenon, or Waller his Sacharissa, as I will love and sing thee, my wife elect! All those names, eminent as they were, shall give place to thine, Eliza. Tell me, in answer to this, that you approve and honour the proposal, and that you would (like the Spectator's mistress) have more joy in putting on an old man's slipper than associating with the gay, the voluptuous, and the young. Adieu, my Simplicia! TRISTRAM. Yours, I HAVE been within the verge of the gates of death. I was ill the last time I wrote to you, and apprehensive of what would be the consequence. My fears were but too well founded; for in ten minutes after I dispatched my letter, this poor fine-spun frame of Yorick's gave way, and I broke a vessel in my breast, and could not stop the loss of blood till four this morning. I have filled all thy India handkerchiefs with it. It came, I think, from my heart! I fell asleep through weakness. At six I awoke, with the bosom of my shirt steeped in Sentimental Journey, etc. 19 tears. I dreamt I was sitting under the canopy of Indolence, and that thou camest into the room with a shawl in thy hand, and told me my spirit had flown to thee in the Downs, with tidings of my fate; and that you had come to administer what consolation filial affection could bestow, and to receive my parting breath and blessing. With that you folded the shawl about my waist, and, kneeling, supplicated my attention. I awoke; but in what a frame! Oh! my God! "But thou wilt number my tears and put them all into my bottle." Dear girl! I see thee, thou art for ever present to my fancy embracing my feeble knees, and rising thy fine eyes to bid me be of comfort: and when I talk to Lydia, the words of Esau, as uttered by thee, perpetually ring in my ears "Bless me even also, my father!"—Blessings attend thee, thou child of my heart!— -- My bleeding is quite stopped, and I feel the principle of life strong within me; so be not alarmed, Eliza I know I shall do well. I have eat my breakfast with hunger; and I write to thee with a pleasure arising from that prophetic impression in my imagination, that "all will terminate to our heart's content." Comfort thyself eternally with this persuasion, "that the best of Beings (as thou hast sweetly expressed it) could not, by a combination of accidents, produce such a chain of events, merely to be the source of misery to the leading person engaged in them." The observation was very applicable, very good, and very elegantly expressed. I wish my memory did justice to the wording of it. Who taught you the art of writing so sweetly, Eliza? ly exalted it to a science. You have absoluteWhen I am in want of ready cash, and ill health will not permit my genius |