TO MRS. JERMYN, AT HER HOUSE IN GLoucester.

DEAR MADAM,

Having no mother of my own, I hope you will give me leave to disburden my poor heart to you, who have always acted the part of a kind parent to me ever since I was put under your care. Indeed, and indeed, my worthy governess may believe me when I assure her that I never harboured a thought that was otherwise than virtuous; and, if God will give me grace, I shall never behave so as to cast a reflection on the care you have taken in my education. I confess I have given just cause of offence, by my want of prudence and experience. I ought not to have listened to what the young man said; and it was my duty to have told you all that passed, but I was ashamed to mention it; and then he behaved so modest and respectful, and seemed to be so melancholy and timorous, that I could not find in my heart to do any thing that should make him miserable and desperate. As for familiarities, I do declare, I never once allowed him the favour of a salute; and as to the few letters that passed between us, they are all in my uncle's hands, and I hope they contain nothing contrary to innocence and honour. I am still persuaded that he is not what he appears to be; but time will discover. Meanwhile I will endeavour to forget a connexion which is so displeasing to my family. I have cried without ceasing, and have not tasted any thing but tea since I was hurried away from you; nor did I once close my eyes for three nights running. My aunt continues to chide me severely when we are by ourselves; but I hope to soften her in time, by humility and submission. My uncle, who was so dreadfully passionate in the beginning, has been moved by my tears and distress, and is now all tenderness and compassion; and my brother is reconciled to me, on my promising to break off all correspondence with that unfortunate youth; but, notwithstanding all their indulgence, I shall have no peace of mind till I know my dear and ever-honoured governess has forgiven her poor, disconsolate, forlorn, affectionate humble servant, till death,

Clifton, April 6.

LYDIA MELFord.

TO MISS LETITIA WILLIS, AT GLOUCESTER.

MY DEAREST LETTY,

I am in such a fright, lest this should not come safe to hand by the conveyance of Jarvis the carrier, that I beg you will write me on the receipt of it, directing to me. under cover, to Mrs. Winifred Jenkins, my aunt's maid. who is a good girl, and has been so kind to me in my affliction, that I have made her my confidant: as for Jarvis, he was very shy of taking charge of my letter and the little parcel, because his sister Sally had like to have lost her place on my account: indeed, I cannot blame the man for his caution; but I have made it worth his while. My dear companion and bedfellow, it is a grievous addition to my other misfortunes, that I am deprived of your agreeable company and conversation, at a time when I need so much the comfort of your goodhumour and good sense; but I hope the friendship we contracted at boarding-school will last for life. I doubt not but on my side it will daily increase and improve, as I gain experience, and learn to know the value of a true friend. O, my dear Letty! what shall I say about poor Mr. Wilson? I have promised to break off all correspondence, and, if possible, to forget him: but, alas! I begin to perceive that it will not be in my power. As it is by no means proper that the picture should remain in my hands, lest it should be the occasion of more mischief, I have sent it to you by this opportunity, begging you will either keep it safe till better times, or return it to Mr. Wilson himself, who, I suppose, will make it his business to see you at the usual place. If he should be low-spirited at my sending back his picture, you may tell him I have no occasion for a picture, while the original continues engraved on my: but no; I would not have you tell him that neither; because there must be an end of our correspondence. I wish he may forget me, for the sake of his own peace; and yet, if he should, he must be a barbarous-. But 'tis impossible,-poor Wilson cannot be false and inconstant: I beseech him not to write to me, nor attempt to see me for some time; for, considering the resentment and passionate temper of my brother Jery, such an attempt might be attended with consequences which would make us all miserable for life: let us trust to time and the chapter of accidents,

or rather to that Providence which will not fail, sooner or later, to reward those that walk in the paths of honour and virtue. I would offer my love to the young ladies; but it is not fit that any of them should know you have received this letter. If we go to Bath, I shall send you my simple remarks on that famous centre of polite amusement, and every other place we may chance to visit; and 1 flatter myself that my dear Miss Willis will be punctual in answering the letters of her affectionate Clifton, April 6. LYDIA MELFORD.

DEAR LEWIS,

TO DR. LEWIS.

I have followed your directions with some success, and might have been on my legs by this time, had the weather permitted me to use my saddle-horse. I rode out on the Downs last Tuesday, in the forenoon, when the sky, as far as the visible horizon, was without a cloud; but before I had gone a full mile, I was overtaken instantaneously by a storm of rain, that wet me to the skin in three minutes-whence it came the devil knows; but it has laid me up (I suppose) for one fortnight. It makes me sick to hear people talk of the fine air of Clifton Downs. How can the air be either agreeable or salutary, where the demon of vapours descends in a perpetual drizzle? My confinement is the more intolerable, as I am surrounded with domestic vexations. My niece has had a dangerous fit of illness, occasioned by that cursed incident at Gloucester which I mentioned in my last. She is a poor, good-natured simpleton, as soft as butter, and as easily melted: not that she's a fool -the girl's parts are not despicable, and her education has not been neglected; that is to say, she can write and spell, and speak French, and play on the harpsichord; then she dances finely, has a good figure, and is very well inclined; but she's deficient in spirit, and so susceptible and so tender, forsooth!—truly, she has got a languishing eye, and reads romances. Then there's her brother, Squire Jery, a pert jackanapes, full of college petulance and self-conceit; proud as a German count, and as hot and hasty as a Welsh mountaineer. As for that fantastical animal my sister Tabby, you are no stranger to her qualifications. I vow to

God, she is sometimes so intolerable, that I almost think she's the devil incarnate come to torment me for my sins and yet I am conscious of no sins that ought to eutail such family plagues on me-why the devil should not I shake off these torments at once I an't married to Tabby, thank Heaven! nor did I beget the other two: let them choose another guardian; for my part, I an't in a condition to take care of myself, much less to superintend the conduct of giddy-headed boys and girls. You earnestly desire to know the particulars of our adventure at Gloucester, which are briefly these, and I hope they will go no farther:-Liddy had been so long cooped up in a boarding-school, which, next to a nunnery, is the worst kind of seminary that ever was contrived for young women, that she became as inflammable as touchwood; and. going to a play in holyday-time-sdeath, I'm ashamed to tell you! she fell in love with one of the actors-a handsome young fellow that goes by the name of Wilson. The rascal soon perceived the impression he had made, and managed matters so as to see her at a house where she went to drink tea with

her governess. This was the beginning of a correspondence, which they kept up by means of a jade of a milliner, who made and dressed caps for the girls at the boarding-school. When we arrived at Gloucester, Liddy came to stay at lodgings with her aunt, and Wilson bribed the maid to deliver a letter into her own hands; but it seems Jery had already acquired so much credit with the maid (by what means he best knows), that she carried the letter to him, and so the whole plot was discovered. The rash boy, without saying a word of the matter to me, went immediately in search of Wilson, and, I suppose, treated him with insolence enough. The theatrical hero was too far gone in romance to brook such usage; he replied in blank verse, and a formal challenge ensued. They agreed to meet early next morning, and decide the dispute with sword and pistol. I heard nothing at all of the affair till Mr. Morley came to my bedside in the morning, and told me he was afraid my nephew was going to fight, as he had been overheard talking very loud and vehement with Wilson at the young man's lodgings the night before. and afterward went and bought powder and ball at a shop in the neighbourhood. I got up immediately, and, on inquiry, found he was just gone out. I begged Morley to knock up the

mayor, that he might interpose as a magistrate, and in the meantime I hobbled after the squire, whom I saw at a distance, walking at a great pace towards the city gate. In spite of all my efforts, I could not come up till our two combatants had taken the ground, and were priming their pistols. An old house luckily screened me from their view; so that I rushed on them at once, before I was perceived. They were both confounded, and attempted to make their escape different ways; but Morley, coming up with constables at that instant, took Wilson into custody, and Jery followed him quietly to the mayor's house. All this time I was ignorant of what had passed the preceding day; and neither of the parties would discover a tittle of the matter. The mayor observed that it was great presumption in Wilson, who was a stroller, to proceed to such extremities with a gentleman of family and fortune; and threatened to commit him on the vagrant act. The young fellow bustled up with great spirit, declaring he was a gentleman, and would be treated as such, but he refused to explain himself farther. The master of the company being sent for, and examined touching the said Wilson, said, the young man had engaged with him at Birmingham about six months ago, but never would take his salary; that he had behaved so well in his private character as to acquire the respect and good-will of all his acquaintance, and that the public owned his merit as an actor was altogether extraordinary. After all, I fancy he will turn out to be a runaway 'prentice from London. The manager offered to bail him for any sum, provided he would give his word and honour that he would keep the peace; but the young gentleman was on his high ropes, and would by no means lay himself under any restrictions: on the other hand, Hopeful was equally obstinate; till at length the mayor declared, that if they both refused to be bound over, he would immediately commit Wilson, as a vagrant, to hard labour. I own I was much pleased with Jery's behaviour on this occasion; he said that, rather than Mr. Wilson should be treated in such an ignominious manner, he would give his word and honour to prosecute the affair no farther while they remained at Gloucester. Wilson thanked him for his generous manner of proceeding, and was discharged. On our return to our lodgings, my nephew explained the whole mystery, and I own I was exceedingly incensed.