Em Tradução:Love and Freindship (en)/pt

AMOR E AMIZADE

PRIMEIRA CARTA

De ISABEL para LAURA

QUANTAS vezes, em resposta às minhas frequentes insinuações de que tu contarias à minha filha os detalhes de suas desgraças e aventuras de vida, disseste: "Não, amiga, nunca atenderei ao seu pedido até que eu não esteja mais em risco de passar por experiências tão horríveis assim"?

Certamente essa hora chegou. Tens agora 55 anos. Se podemos dizer que uma mulher está segura da perseverança de amantes desagradáveis e da perseguição cruel de pais obstinados, deve ser nessa fase da vida.

Isabel.

SEGUNDA CARTA

LAURA para ISABEL

AINDA que eu não possa concordar contigo supondo que nunca mais sofrerei novamente as desgraças tão desmerecidas como as que já sofri, e para evitar o nascimento de obstinação ou mau-caráter, irei satisfazer a curiosidade de sua filha; e que a resiliência com a qual passei por várias aflições no passado ensine a ela uma lição para lidar com aquelas que possam acontecer em sua própria vida.

Laura.

TERCEIRA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE

COMO a filha de minha amiga mais íntima, acho que merece saber da minha triste história, esta que sua mãe sempre pediu para que eu contasse.

Meu pai era nativo da Irlanda e um morador de Gales; minha mãe era filha natural de um Par da Escócia com uma italiana, mulher da ópera. Nasci na Espanha e recebi minha educação em um convento, na França.

Quando fiz dezoito anos, fui convocada por meus pais para minha terra familiar, em Gales. Nossa mansão ficava em uma das partes mais românticas do Vale de Usk. Mesmo que minha beleza esteja agora bem menor e de algum modo afetada pelas desgraças pelas quais passei, já fui linda. Amável como eu era, as graças de minha pessoa eram as menores de minhas perfeições. De todas as realizações deixadas ao meu sexo, eu era uma Dama. No convento, meu progresso sempre excedeu minhas lições, minhas notas eram maravilhosas para minha idade; brevemente, superei meus mestres.

Em minha cabeça, toda virtude que mantivesse isso era essencial; a razão secreta de todas as boas qualidades e de todos os sentimentos nobres.

Uma sensibilidade aguçada demais para com cada aflição de meus amigos, meus conhecidos e, particularmente, para com todas as minhas próprias, era meu único mal, se é que mal há. Oh! Diferentemente de agora! Ainda que minhas próprias desgraças não me impressionem menos que nunca, agora nunca sinto nada pelas dos outros. Meus talentos também começaram a cair - não posso mais nem cantar tão bem ou dançar tão graciosamente como já pude - e esqueci completamente o "Minuet Dela Cour."

Adeus.

Laura.

QUARTA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE

NOSSA vizinhança era pequena, já que era formada somente por sua mãe. Ela provavelmente já lhe contou que foi deixada pelos pais em condições de pobreza, ela foi para Gales por motivos financeiros. Dali, nossa amizade começou. Isabel tinha vinte anos. Apesar de tanto sua pessoa quanto em seus modos (entre nós) serem agradáveis, ela nunca teve nem um centésimo de minha beleza ou atributos. Isabel tinha visto o mundo. Ela passou dois anos em um dos primeiros internatos em Londres; tendo passado uma quinzena em Bath e tido uma noite em Southampton.

"Tenha cuidado, Laura (ela costumava dizer), com as vaidades insípidas e as dissipações ociosas da Metrópole Inglesa; e cuidado com os luxos insignificantes de Bath e com os peixes fedidos de Southampton."

"Ora! (Eu exclamava) Como vou evitar esses males aos quais nunca vou ser exposta? Qual chance há de que eu algum dia sinta as dissipações de Londres, os luxos de Bath, ou os peixes fedidos de Southampton? Eu, que estou condenada a gastar meus dias de juventude numa cabana humilde no Vale de Uske."

Ah! Mal pensava eu que seria em breve ordenada a abandonar aquela humilde cabana pelos Prazeres Enganadores do Mundo.

Adeus

Laura.

QUINTA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE

NUMA tarde de dezembro, como meu pai, minha mãe e eu mesma estávamos conversando ao redor da lareira, ficamos subitamente atônitos ao ouvir uma batida violenta à porta de nossa moradia rústica.

Meu pai começou:

— Que barulho é esse? - Disse ele.

— Soa como uma batida alta à porta - Minha mãe respondeu.

— De fato - bradei.

— Concordo - disse meu pai -, certamente parece ser de alguma violência feita contra nossa inofensiva porta.

— Sim - exclamei - mal posso evitar pensar que deve ser alguém que bate para entrar.

— Isso é outra história - ele respondeu. - Não devemos fingir saber por qual motivo alguém toque, ou mesmo "bata" à porta, estou parcialmente convencido.

Então, uma segunda batida forte interrompeu meu pai em sua fala, e de algum modo alarmou a minha mãe e a mim.

— Não é melhor irmos ver quem é? - Disse ela. - Os empregados não estão.

— Acho que é - respondi.

— Certamente - adicionou meu pai -, definitivamente.

— Devemos ir agora? - Disse minha mãe.

— Quanto mais esperar, melhor - ele respondeu.

— Oh! Não percamos tempo - bradei.

Uma terceira batida, mais violenta ainda, atacou nossos ouvidos.

— Estou certa de que é alguém batendo à porta - disse minha mãe.

— Creio que deva ser - respondeu meu pai.

— Acho que os empregados chegaram - eu disse. - Devo ter ouvido Mary indo à porta.

— Estou satisfeito com isso - resmungou meu pai -, ao menos sei quem é.

Eu estava certa em meu palpite; no que Mary instantaneamente entrou na sala, nos informando que um jovem cavalheiro e seu empregado estavam à porta, que haviam se perdido, estavam com frio e imploraram para que ficassem aquecidos por nosso fogo.

— Não vão aceitá-los? - eu disse.

— Tens alguma ressalva, querida? - Disse meu pai.

— Nenhuma sequer - respondeu minha mãe.

Mary, sem esperar por nenhum outro comentário, deixou imediatamente a sala e rapidamente retornou, apresentando o jovem mais belo e mais amável que eu já tinha visto. O empregado, ela deixou para si.

Minha sensibilidade natural já estava sendo fortemente afetada pelo sofrimento do estranho desafortunado e, em pouco tempo, eu primeiro o recebi e senti que dele dependeria a alegria ou desgraça de minha vida.

Adeus

Laura.

SEXTA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE

O jovem nobre informou que seu nome era Lindsay - por motivos particulares, devo escondê-lo como Talbot. Contou-nos que era filho de um barão inglês, que sua mãe havia partido há muito tempo e que tinha uma irmã de tamanho médio.

— Meu pai - ele continuou - é um miserável maléfico e mercenário, e apenas com amigos particulares como vocês eu posso trair os defeitos dele. Suas virtudes, meu amável Polidori - direcionando-se ao meu pai -, suas, querida Claudia e suas, minha cara Laura, me atraem para pôr em vocês minha confiança - nos lisonjeamos. - Meu pai, seduzido pelo brilho da fortuna e pela ilusão do título, insistia que eu desse minha mão à Lady Dorothea. "Não, nunca!", eu exclamava, "Lady Dorothea é gentil e cativante, não prefiro mulher alguma a ela, mas sabe, senhor, que eu odiaria casar-me com ela conforme seus desejos. Não! Nunca deve ser dito que fui obrigado pelo meu pai."

Todos admiramos a masculinidade nobre da responta que ele havia dado. Continuou.

"Sir Edward ficou surpreso, talvez não tivesse esperado encontrar uma oposição tão fervorosa à sua vontade. 'De onde, Edward, em nome de Deus,' ele disse, 'você tirou essa tagarelice insignificante? Deve ter lido romances, suspeito.' Bradei ao responder: 'Seria contra minha dignidade.' Montei meu cavalo e segui com o fiel William para minhas tias.

"A casa de meu pai é situada em Bedfordshire, as de minhas tias, em Middlesex, e ainda que eu me gabasse de ser suficientemente bom em geografia, não sei como aconteceu, mas me vi entrando esse belo vale que descobri estar no Sul de Gales quando achei ter chegado às minhas tias.

"Após passar algum tempo às margens de Uske sem saber para qual caminho tinha ido, comecei a lamentar meu destino cruel da maneira mais amarga e patética. Estava agora totalmente escuro, nenhuma única estrela estava lá para direcionar meus passos, e não sei o que teria me acontecido caso não tivesse avistado longamente uma luz distante que, ao me aproximar, descobri tratar-se da chama alegre seu fogo. Impelido pela combinação de desgraças pelas quais havia passado, sendo elas medo, frio e fome, não hesitei em pedir permissão para entrar, o que consegui, afinal; e agora minha adorável Laura", ele continuou pegando minha mão, "quando posso esperar receber a recompensa de todos os sofrimentos dolorosos durante a jornada até você, que sempre quis. Oh! Quando vai me recompensar consigo mesma?"

"Neste momento, caro e amável Edward", respondi. Estávamos imediatamente unidos pelo meu pai, que mal tinha sido ordenado pela Igreja.

Adeus

Laura.

SÉTIMA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE

CONTINUAMOS alguns dias após o nosso casamento no vale de Uske. Depois de me despedir carinhosamente de meu pai, minha mãe e minha Isabel, acompanhei Edward até a casa de suas tias em Middlesex. Philippa recebeu-nos com toda sua expressão de amor afetuoso. Minha chegada foi uma verdadeira surpresa para ela, já que não só era totalmente desavisada de meu casamento com seu sobrinho como nunca sequer pensou que havia tal pessoa no mundo.

Augusta, a irmã de Edward, estava visitando-a quando chegamos. Achei-a exatamente como seu irmão tinha descrito - de tamanho médio. Ela me recebeu com a mesma surpresa, embora com menos cordialidade do que Philippa. Havia uma frieza desagradável e uma discrição proibitiva em sua recepção quanto a mim, que era igualmente angustiante e inesperada. Nada daquela sensibilidade instigante ou simpatia amigável em seus modos e falas quando nos conhecemos, o que deve ter estragado nossa introdução uma à outra. Sua linguagem era exaltada, não afetuosa, suas expressões de respeito não eram nem animadas, nem cordiais; seus braços não estavam abertos a me receber em seu coração, embora os meus próprios estivessem estendidos para tê-la no meu.

Uma conversa curta entre Augusta e seu irmão que ouvi por acidente aumentou minha antipatia por ela e me convenceu de que seu coração não era feito mais para os laços gentis do amor do que para a cativante relação da amizade.

— Mas acha que meu pai vai aceitar essa união imprudente? - Disse Augusta.

— Augusta - respondeu o jovem nobre -, achei que pensava melhor de mim para imaginar que eu me degradaria a ponto de concordar com meu pai em qualquer um de meus assuntos, todas as consequências dizem respeito a mim. Diga-me, Augusta, diga-me com sinceridade; já me viu consultando as inclinações dele ou seguindo seus conselhos em qualquer tema particular desde os quinze anos?

— Edward - ela respondeu -, você é certamente muito hesitante em seu próprio respeito. Só desde os quinze anos! Meu caro irmão, desde que você tinha cinco anos, não te vi ter em momento algum feito de bom grado a vontade de seu pai. Mas continuo com o pensamento de você sendo brevemente obrigado a se degradar diante de seus olhos por buscar apoio à sua esposa na generosidade de Sir Edward.

— Nunca, nunca, Augusta, irei decair-me tanto - disse Edward. - Apoio! Que apoio Laura poderia querer que recebesse dele?

— Apenas os mais insignificantes de comida e bebida - ela respondeu.

— Comida e bebida! - respondeu meu marido de um modo mais desdenhoso - então deve achar que não existe outro apoio para uma mente única, como a de minha Laura, do que o indelicado de comer e beber?

— Nenhum que eu conheça, não com tanta eficácia - respondeu Augusta.

— Então não sentiu as dores prazerosas do amor, Augusta? - Respondeu meu Edward. - Parece impossível, para seu gosto corrupto e vil, estar apaixonado? Não consegue conceber a beleza de viver nas dificuldades que a pobreza traz, desde que com o objeto de sua afeição?

— Você é estúpido demais - disse Augusta - para discutir; mas talvez em pouco seja convencido que...

Aqui parei de ouvir o resto de sua fala, com a presença de uma moça muito bela, levada à porta pela qual eu estava ouvindo. Ao ouvi-la sendo chamada de "Lady Dorothea," deixei instantaneamente o canto e a segui até a sala de visitas, tendo lembrado bem de que ela era a dama proposta como esposa para meu Edward pelo barão cruel.

Mesmo que a sua visita era tecnicamente para Philippa e Augusta, tenho razões para imaginar (devido ao casamento e chegada de Edward) que me ver era o principal motivo de sua ida.

Depois descobri que apesar de sua elegância amável em sua pessoa e flexibilidade e polidez em seus modos, ela era daquela classe inferior de seres quanto a sensações delicadas, sentimentos calorosos e sensibilidade refinada, da qual Augusta também era.

Ela passou por volta de uma hora em sua visita, não me confidenciando nenhum de seus pensamentos secretos, nem pedindo a mim que confiasse a ela nenhum dos meus. Deve imaginar, minha cara Marianne, que não pude sentir nenhuma afeição ardente ou qualquer apego sincero à Lady Dorothea.

Adeus

Laura.

OITAVA CARTA

LAURA para MARIANNE, continuação

LADY DOROTHEA não havia nos deixado muito antes de outro visitante, tão inesperado quanto ela, fora anunciado. Era Sir Edward, informado por Augusta do casamento de seu irmão, veio sem dúvida reprová-lo por ousar unir-se a mim sem seu conhecimento. Mas Edward, prevendo a vontade de seu pai, aproximou-se dele com força heroica assim que entrou na sala, e dirigiu-se a ele da seguinte maneira.

— Sir Edward, sei o motivo de sua jornada aqui, veio com o desejo maior de me reprovar por entrar em uma relação indissolúvel com minha Laura sem seu consentimento. Mas, senhor, me vanglorio do ato. É minha maior proeza ter causado o descontentamento de meu pai!

Dito isto, pegou minha mão e enquanto Sir Edward, Philippa e Augusta estavam inegavelmente refletindo com admiração sua bravura destemida, levou-me da sala de visitas à carruagem de seu pai, que permanecia na porta, com a qual fugimos instantaneamente da perseguição de Sir Edward.

Os dirigentes, primeiramente, receberam ordens apenas para pegarem a estrada de Londres; assim que havíamos refletido suficientemente, entretanto, ordenamos que dirigissem para M——., a casa do amigo mais íntimo de Edward, que não ficava mais de algumas milhas de distância.

Chegamos a M——. em poucas horas; e dizendo nossos nomes, fomos imediatamente recebidos por Sophia, a esposa do amigo de Edward. Após ter passado cerca de 3 semanas sem um amigo de verdade (com isso, quero dizer, sua mãe), imagine-me ao contemplar um digno do título. Sophia era mais acima do tamanho médio; mais elegantemente. Uma languidez suave em suas feições amáveis aumentavam sua beleza. Era característico de sua mente. Ela era inteiramente sensibilidade e sentimento. Caímos nos braços uma da outra após termos trocado votos de amizade mútua pelo resto de nossas vidas, instantaneamente contamos uma a outra os maiores segredos de nossos corações. Fomos interrompidas da atividade pela entrada de Augustus, (amigo de Edward), que tinha voltado de um vagueio solitário.

Nunca vi uma cena tão afetuosa quanto o encontro de Edward e Augustus.

— Minha vida! Minha alma! - Exclamou o primeiro.

— Meu anjo amável! - Respondeu o segundo enquanto caíam nos braços um do outro.

Aquilo era patético demais para os sentimentos meus e de Sophia - deitamos alternadamente num sofá.

Adeus

Laura

NONA CARTA

Da mesma para a mesma

PERTO do final do dia, recebemos a seguinte carta de Philippa.

"Sir Edward está enormemente irritado com sua saída abrupta; levou Augusta consigo de volta a Bedfordshire. Por mais que eu deseje ter novamente sua encantadora presença, não posso querer tirá-lo de amigos tão caros e dignos - Quando sua visita a eles estiver terminada, confio que vai voltar aos braços de sua"

"Philippa."

Demos uma resposta adequada a esta nota afetuosa e, após agradecê-la por seu convite gentil, garantimos que certamente pensaríamos naquilo quando não tivéssemos mais para onde ir. Embora nada pudesse, para nenhum ser razoável, parecido mais satisfatório e tão gratamente responder a tal convite, mesmo que eu não saiba como ocorreu, certamente por ser caprichosa a ponto de se descontentar com nosso comportamento, poucas semanas depois, ou para vingar nossa conduta ou para amenizar a própria solidão, casou-se com um jovem e analfabeto interesseiro quanto ao casamento. Este passo imprudente (mesmo que estivéssemos cientes de que isto provavelmente nos privaria daquela fortuna que Philippa algum dia nos fez esperar) não poderia, por nossa conta, suscitar de nossas mentes um suspiro que fosse; mas, ainda temendo que isto se tornasse uma fonte de miséria infinita para a ingênua noiva, nossa sensibilidade trêmula foi muito afetada quando soubemos do evento de primeira. A recepção afetuosa de Augustus e Sophia de que podíamos para sempre considerar seu lar como nosso, facilmente pensamos em nunca mais deixá-los. Na presença de meu Edward e deste casal amigável, passei os momentos mais felizes de minha vida; nosso tempo foi deleitosamente gasto em relações mútuas de amizade e em votos de amor inalteráveis dos quais estávamos certos de que não poderíamos ser interrompidos por visitantes intrusivos e desagradáveis, já que Augustus e Sophia, desde sua primeira entrada na vizinhança, tiveram o cuidado de esclarecer que às famílias próximas que, uma vez que sua felicidade era inteiramente entre eles, não desejavam outras companhias. Mas oh! Minha cara Marianne, a tanta alegria que tive era boa demais para durar. Um acontecimento mais grave e inesperado destruiu toda minha felicidade de uma vez. Convencida como você deve estar, tendo em vista o que já contei a respeito de Augustus e Sophia, de que nunca houve casal mais feliz, nem preciso imaginar, devo informar-lhe de que sua relação era vista como o oposto por seus mercenários e cruéis pais; que sem sucesso haviam tentado obstinadamente forçá-los a um casamento com aqueles que já tinham abominado; mas com força heroica, digna de ser relatada e honrada, ambos constantemente recusaram-se a em se submeter a tal despotismo.

Após terem tão nobremente livrado-se das algemas da autoridade paterna, por um casamento escondido, estavam determinados a nunca perder as coisas boas que tinham ganhado no mundo, assim, aceitando qualquer proposta de reconciliação com seus pais - com esse passo adiante em sua nobre independência, no entanto, eles nunca receberam alguma destas.

Estavam casados fazia poucos meses desde que os visitamos enquanto eram amplamente mantidos por uma quantidade considerável de dinheiro que Augustus havia muito bem roubado do inútil escritório de seu pai, dias antes de sua união com Sophia.

Com nossa chegada, suas despesas aumentaram consideravelmente, no que meios para mantê-los estavam quase esgotados. Mas eles, grandes seres! Recusaram-se a pensar por um momento em seus problemas financeiros e teriam corado pela ideia de pagar suas dívidas. Oh! Qual foi sua recompensa por um comportamento tão desinteressado! O belo Augustus foi preso e fomos todos desfeitos. Tão pérfida traição por parte dos responsáveis pelo acontecido cochará sua natureza gentil, Caríssima Marianne, tanto quanto afetou a delicada sensibilidade de Edward, Sophia, sua Laura, e do próprio Augustus. Para completar tamanha barbaridade, fomos informados de que uma execução aconteceria em pouco tempo na casa. Ah! Que podíamos ter feito e o que fizemos! Suspiramos e ficamos paralisados no sofá.

Adeus

Laura.

DÉCIMA CARTA

LAURA em continuação

WHEN we were somewhat recovered from the overpowering Effusions of our grief, Edward desired that we would consider what was the most prudent step to be taken in our unhappy situation while he repaired to his imprisoned freind to lament over his misfortunes. We promised that we would, and he set forwards on his journey to Town. During his absence we faithfully complied with his Desire and after the most mature Deliberation, at length agreed that the best thing we could do was to leave the House; of which we every moment expected the officers of Justice to take possession. We waited therefore with the greatest impatience, for the return of Edward in order to impart to him the result of our Deliberations. But no Edward appeared. In vain did we count the tedious moments of his absence—in vain did we weep—in vain even did we sigh—no Edward returned—. This was too cruel, too unexpected a Blow to our Gentle Sensibility—we could not support it—we could only faint. At length collecting all the Resolution I was Mistress of, I arose and after packing up some necessary apparel for Sophia and myself, I dragged her to a Carriage I had ordered and we instantly set out for London. As the Habitation of Augustus was within twelve miles of Town, it was not long e'er we arrived there, and no sooner had we entered Holboun than letting down one of the Front Glasses I enquired of every decent-looking Person that we passed "If they had seen my Edward?"

But as we drove too rapidly to allow them to answer my repeated Enquiries, I gained little, or indeed, no information concerning him. "Where am I to drive?" said the Postilion. "To Newgate Gentle Youth (replied I), to see Augustus." "Oh! no, no, (exclaimed Sophia) I cannot go to Newgate; I shall not be able to support the sight of my Augustus in so cruel a confinement—my feelings are sufficiently shocked by the recital, of his Distress, but to behold it will overpower my Sensibility." As I perfectly agreed with her in the Justice of her Sentiments the Postilion was instantly directed to return into the Country. You may perhaps have been somewhat surprised my Dearest Marianne, that in the Distress I then endured, destitute of any support, and unprovided with any Habitation, I should never once have remembered my Father and Mother or my paternal Cottage in the Vale of Uske. To account for the seeming forgetfullness I must inform you of a trifling circumstance concerning them which I have as yet never mentioned. The death of my Parents a few weeks after my Departure, is the circumstance I allude to. By their decease I became the lawfull Inheritress of their House and Fortune. But alas! the House had never been their own and their Fortune had only been an Annuity on their own Lives. Such is the Depravity of the World! To your Mother I should have returned with Pleasure, should have been happy to have introduced to her, my charming Sophia and should with Chearfullness have passed the remainder of my Life in their dear Society in the Vale of Uske, had not one obstacle to the execution of so agreable a scheme, intervened; which was the Marriage and Removal of your Mother to a distant part of Ireland.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER 11th

LAURA in continuation

"I HAVE a Relation in Scotland (said Sophia to me as we left London) who I am certain would not hesitate in receiving me." "Shall I order the Boy to drive there?" said I—but instantly recollecting myself, exclaimed, "Alas I fear is will be too long a Journey for the Horses." Unwilling however to act only from my own inadequate Knowledge of the Strength and Abilities of Horses, I consulted the Postilion, who was entirely of my Opinion concerning the Affair. We therefore determined to change Horses at the next Town and to travel Post the remainder of the Journey—. When we arrived at the last Inn we were to stop at, which was but a few miles from the House of Sophia's Relation, unwilling to intrude our Society on him unexpected and unthought of, we wrote a very elegant and well penned Note to him containing an account of our Destitute and melancholy Situation, and of our intention to spend some months with him in Scotland. As soon as we had dispatched this Letter, we immediately prepared to follow it in person and were stepping into the Carriage for that Purpose when our attention was attracted by the Entrance of a coroneted Coach and 4 into the Inn-yard. A Gentleman considerably advanced in years, descended from it. At his first Appearance my Sensibility was wonderfully affected and e'er I had gazed at him a 2d time, an instinctive sympathy whispered to my Heart, that he was my Grandfather. Convinced that I could not be mistaken in my conjecture I instantly sprang from the Carriage I had just entered, and following the Venerable Stranger into the Room he had been shewn to, I threw myself on my knees before him and besought him to acknowledge me as his Grand Child. He started, and after having attentively examined my features, raised me from the Ground and throwing his Grandfatherly arms around my Neck, exclaimed, "Acknowledge thee! Yes dear resemblance of my Laurina and Laurina's Daughter, sweet image of my Claudia and my Claudia's Mother, I do acknowledge thee as the Daughter of the one and the Grandaughter of the other." While he was thus tenderly embracing me, Sophia astonished at my precipitate Departure, entered the Room in search of me. No sooner had she caught the eye of the venerable Peer, than he exclaimed with every mark of astonishment—"Another Grandaughter! Yes, yes, I see you are the Daughter of my Laurina's eldest Girl; Your resemblance to the beauteous Matilda sufficiently proclaims it. "Oh! replied Sophia, when I first beheld you the instinct of Nature whispered me that we were in some degree related—But whether Grandfathers, or Grandmothers, I could not pretend to determine." He folded her in his arms, and whilst they were tenderly embracing, the Door of the Apartment opened and a most beautifull young Man appeared. On perceiving him Lord St. Clair started and retreating back a few paces, with uplifted Hands, said, "Another Grand-child! What an unexpected Happiness is this! to discover in the space of 3 minutes, as many of my Descendants! This, I am certain is Philander the son of my Laurina's 3d girl the amiable Bertha; there wants now but the presence of Gustavus to compleat the Union of my Laurina's Grand-Children."

"And here he is; (said a Gracefull Youth who that instant entered the room) here is the Gustavus you desire to see. I am the son of Agatha your Laurina's 4th and youngest Daughter." "I see you are indeed; replied Lord St. Clair—But tell me (continued he looking fearfully towards the Door) tell me, have I any other Grand-children in the House." "None my Lord." "Then I will provide for you all without farther delay—Here are 4 Banknotes of 50£ each—Take them and remember I have done the Duty of a Grandfather." He instantly left the Room and immediately afterwards the House.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 12th

LAURA in continuation

YOU may imagine how greatly we were surprised by the sudden departure of Lord St. Clair. "Ignoble Grand-sire!" exclaimed Sophia. "Unworthy Grandfather!" said I, and instantly fainted in each other's arms. How long we remained in this situation I know not; but when we recovered we found ourselves alone, without either Gustavus, Philander, or the Banknotes. As we were deploring our unhappy fate, the Door of the Apartment opened and "Macdonald" was announced. He was Sophia's cousin. The haste with which he came to our releif so soon after the receipt of our Note, spoke so greatly in his favour that I hesitated not to pronounce him at first sight, a tender and simpathetic Freind. Alas! he little deserved the name—for though he told us that he was much concerned at our Misfortunes, yet by his own account it appeared that the perusal of them, had neither drawn from him a single sigh, nor induced him to bestow one curse on our vindictive stars—. He told Sophia that his Daughter depended on her returning with him to Macdonald-Hall, and that as his cousin's friend he should be happy to see me there also. To Macdonald-Hall, therefore we went, and were received with great kindness by Janetta the Daughter of Macdonald, and the Mistress of the Mansion. Janetta was then only fifteen; naturally well disposed, endowed with a susceptible Heart, and a simpathetic Disposition, she might, had these amiable qualities been properly encouraged, have been an ornament to human Nature; but unfortunately her Father possessed not a soul sufficiently exalted to admire so promising a Disposition, and had endeavoured by every means in his power to prevent its encreasing with her Years. He had actually so far extinguished the natural noble Sensibility of her Heart, as to prevail on her to accept an offer from a young Man of his Recommendation. They were to be married in a few months, and Graham, was in the House when we arrived. We soon saw through his character. He was just such a Man as one might have expected to be the choice of Macdonald. They said he was Sensible, well-informed, and Agreable; we did not pretend to Judge of such trifles, but as we were convinced he had no soul, that he had never read the sorrows of Werter, and that his Hair bore not the least resemblance to auburn, we were certain that Janetta could feel no affection for him, or at least that she ought to feel none. The very circumstances of his being her father's choice too, was so much in his disfavour, that had he been deserving her, in every other respect yet that of itself ought to have been a sufficient reason in the Eyes of Janetta for rejecting him. These considerations we were determined to represent to her in their proper light and doubted not of meeting with the desired success from one naturally so well disposed; whose errors in the affair had only arisen from a want of proper confidence in her own opinion, and a suitable contempt of her father's. We found her indeed all that our warmest wishes could have hoped for; we had no difficulty to convince her that it was impossible she could love Graham, or that it was her Duty to disobey her Father; the only thing at which she rather seemed to hesitate was our assertion that she must be attached to some other Person. For sometime, she persevered in declaring that she knew no other young man for whom she had the smallest Affection; but upon explaining the impossibility of such a thing she said that she beleived she did like Captain M'Kenrie better than any one she knew besides. This confession satisfied us and after having enumerated the good Qualities of M'Kenrie and assured her that she was violently in love with him, we desired to know whether he had ever in any wise declared his affection to her.

"So far from having ever declared it, I have no reason to imagine that he has ever felt any for me." said Janetta. "That he certainly adores you (replied Sophia) there can be no doubt—. The Attachment must be reciprocal. Did he never gaze on you with admiration— tenderly press your hand—drop an involuntary tear—and leave the room abruptly?" "Never (replied she) that I remember—he has always left the room indeed when his visit has been ended, but has never gone away particularly abruptly or without making a bow." Indeed my Love (said I) you must be mistaken—for it is absolutely impossible that he should ever have left you but with Confusion, Despair, and Precipitation. Consider but for a moment Janetta, and you must be convinced how absurd it is to suppose that he could ever make a Bow, or behave like any other Person." Having settled this Point to our satisfaction, the next we took into consideration was, to determine in what manner we should inform M'Kenrie of the favourable Opinion Janetta entertained of him. . . . We at length agreed to aquaint him with it by an anonymous Letter which Sophia drew up in the following manner.

"Oh! happy Lover of the beautifull Janetta, oh! amiable Possessor of her Heart whose hand is destined to another, why do you thus delay a confession of your attachment to the amiable Object of it? Oh! consider that a few weeks will at once put an end to every flattering Hope that you may now entertain, by uniting the unfortunate Victim of her father's Cruelty to the execrable and detested Graham."

"Alas! why do you thus so cruelly connive at the projected Misery of her and of yourself by delaying to communicate that scheme which had doubtless long possessed your imagination? A secret Union will at once secure the felicity of both."

The amiable M'Kenrie, whose modesty as he afterwards assured us had been the only reason of his having so long concealed the violence of his affection for Janetta, on receiving this Billet flew on the wings of Love to Macdonald-Hall, and so powerfully pleaded his Attachment to her who inspired it, that after a few more private interviews, Sophia and I experienced the satisfaction of seeing them depart for Gretna-Green, which they chose for the celebration of their Nuptials, in preference to any other place although it was at a considerable distance from Macdonald-Hall.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 13th

LAURA in continuation

THEY had been gone nearly a couple of Hours, before either Macdonald or Graham had entertained any suspicion of the affair. And they might not even then have suspected it, but for the following little Accident. Sophia happening one day to open a private Drawer in Macdonald's Library with one of her own keys, discovered that it was the Place where he kept his Papers of consequence and amongst them some bank notes of considerable amount. This discovery she imparted to me; and having agreed together that it would be a proper treatment of so vile a Wretch as Macdonald to deprive him of money, perhaps dishonestly gained, it was determined that the next time we should either of us happen to go that way, we would take one or more of the Bank notes from the drawer. This well meant Plan we had often successfully put in Execution; but alas! on the very day of Janetta's Escape, as Sophia was majestically removing the 5th Bank-note from the Drawer to her own purse, she was suddenly most impertinently interrupted in her employment by the entrance of Macdonald himself, in a most abrupt and precipitate Manner. Sophia (who though naturally all winning sweetness could when occasions demanded it call forth the Dignity of her sex) instantly put on a most forbiding look, and darting an angry frown on the undaunted culprit, demanded in a haughty tone of voice "Wherefore her retirement was thus insolently broken in on?" The unblushing Macdonald, without even endeavouring to exculpate himself from the crime he was charged with, meanly endeavoured to reproach Sophia with ignobly defrauding him of his money . . . The dignity of Sophia was wounded; "Wretch (exclaimed she, hastily replacing the Bank-note in the Drawer) how darest thou to accuse me of an Act, of which the bare idea makes me blush?" The base wretch was still unconvinced and continued to upbraid the justly-offended Sophia in such opprobious Language, that at length he so greatly provoked the gentle sweetness of her Nature, as to induce her to revenge herself on him by informing him of Janetta's Elopement, and of the active Part we had both taken in the affair. At this period of their Quarrel I entered the Library and was as you may imagine equally offended as Sophia at the ill-grounded accusations of the malevolent and contemptible Macdonald. "Base Miscreant! (cried I) how canst thou thus undauntedly endeavour to sully the spotless reputation of such bright Excellence? Why dost thou not suspect my innocence as soon?" "Be satisfied Madam (replied he) I do suspect it, and therefore must desire that you will both leave this House in less than half an hour."

"We shall go willingly; (answered Sophia) our hearts have long detested thee, and nothing but our freindship for thy Daughter could have induced us to remain so long beneath thy roof."

"Your Freindship for my Daughter has indeed been most powerfully exerted by throwing her into the arms of an unprincipled Fortune-hunter." (replied he)

"Yes, (exclaimed I) amidst every misfortune, it will afford us some consolation to reflect that by this one act of freindship to Janetta, we have amply discharged every obligation that we have received from her father."

"It must indeed be a most gratefull reflection, to your exalted minds." (said he.)

As soon as we had packed up our wardrobe and valuables, we left Macdonald Hall, and after having walked about a mile and a half we sate down by the side of a clear limpid stream to refresh our exhausted limbs. The place was suited to meditation. A grove of full-grown Elms sheltered us from the East—. A Bed of full-grown Nettles from the West—. Before us ran the murmuring brook and behind us ran the turn-pike road. We were in a mood for contemplation and in a Disposition to enjoy so beautifull a spot. A mutual silence which had for some time reigned between us, was at length broke by my exclaiming—"What a lovely scene! Alas why are not Edward and Augustus here to enjoy its Beauties with us?"

"Ah! my beloved Laura (cried Sophia) for pity's sake forbear recalling to my remembrance the unhappy situation of my imprisoned Husband. Alas, what would I not give to learn the fate of my Augustus! to know if he is still in Newgate, or if he is yet hung. But never shall I be able so far to conquer my tender sensibility as to enquire after him. Oh, do not I beseech you ever let me again hear you repeat his beloved name—. It affects me too deeply—. I cannot bear to hear him mentioned it wounds my feelings."

"Excuse me my Sophia for having thus unwillingly offended you—" replied I—and then changing the conversation, desired her to admire the noble Grandeur of the Elms which sheltered us from the Eastern Zephyr. "Alas! my Laura (returned she) avoid so melancholy a subject, I intreat you. Do not again wound my Sensibility by observations on those elms. They remind me of Augustus. He was like them, tall, majestic, he possessed that noble grandeur which you admire in them."

I was silent, fearfull lest I might any more unwillingly distress her by fixing on any other subject of conversation which might again remind her of Augustus.

"Why do you not speak my Laura? (said she after a short pause) "I cannot support this silence you must not leave me to my own reflections; they ever recur to Augustus."

"What a beautiful sky! (said I) How charmingly is the azure varied by those delicate streaks of white!"

"Oh! my Laura (replied she hastily withdrawing her Eyes from a momentary glance at the sky) do not thus distress me by calling my Attention to an object which so cruelly reminds me of my Augustus's blue satin waistcoat striped with white! In pity to your unhappy freind avoid a subject so distressing. What could I do? The feelings of Sophia were at that time so exquisite, and the tenderness she felt for Augustus so poignant that I had not power to start any other topic, justly fearing that it might in some unforseen manner again awaken all her sensibility by directing her thoughts to her Husband. Yet to be silent would be cruel; she had intreated me to talk.

From this Dilemma I was most fortunately releived by an accident truly apropos; it was the lucky overturning of a Gentleman's Phaeton, on the road which ran murmuring behind us. It was a most fortunate accident as it diverted the attention of Sophia from melancholy reflections which she had been before indulging. We instantly quitted our seats and ran to the rescue of those who but a few moments before had been in so elevated a situation as a fashionably high Phaeton, but who were now laid low and sprawhng in the Dust. "What an ample subject for reflection on the uncertain Enjoyments of this World, would not that Phaeton and the Life of Cardinal Wolsey afford a thinking Mind!" said I to Sophia as we were hastening to the field of Action.

She had not time to answer me, for every thought was now engaged by the horrid spectacle before us. Two Gentlemen most elegantly attired but weltering in their blood was what first struck our Eyes—we approached—they were Edward and Augustus—. Yes dearest Marianne they were our Husbands. Sophia shreiked and fainted on the ground—I screamed and instantly ran mad—. We remained thus mutually deprived of our senses, some minutes, and on regaining them were deprived of them again. For an Hour and a Quarter did we continue in this unfortunate situation—Sophia fainting every moment and I running mad as often. At length a groan from the hapless Edward (who alone retained any share of life) restored us to ourselves. Had we indeed before imagined that either of them lived, we should have been more sparing of our Greif—but as we had supposed when we first beheld them that they were no more, we knew that nothing could remain to be done but what we were about. No sooner therefore did we hear my Edward's groan than postponing our lamentations for the present, we hastily ran to the Dear Youth and kneeling on each side of him implored him not to die—. "Laura (said He fixing his now languid Eyes on me) I fear I have been over-turned."

I was overjoyed to find him yet sensible.

"Oh I tell me Edward (said I) tell me I beseech you before you die, what has befallen you since that unhappy Day in which Augustus was arrested and we were separated—"

"I will" (said he) and instantly fetching a deep sigh, Expired—. Sophia immediately sunk again into a swoon—. My greif was more audible. My Voice faltered, My Eyes assumed a vacant stare, my face became as pale as Death, and my senses were considerably impaired—.

"Talk not to me of Phaetons (said I, raving in a frantic, incoherent manner)—Give me a violin—. I'll play to- him and soothe him in his melancholy Hours—Beware ye gentle Nymphs of Cupid's Thunderbolts, avoid the piercing shafts of Jupiter—Look at that grove of Firs—I see a Leg of Mutton—They told me Edward was not Dead; but they deceived me— they took him for a cucumber—" Thus I continued wildly exclaiming on my Edward's Death—. For two Hours did I rave thus madly and should not then have left off, as I was not in the least fatigued, had not Sophia who was just recovered from her swoon, intreated me to consider that Night was now approaching and that the Damps began to fall. "And whither shall we go (said I) to shelter us from either."? "To that white Cottage." (replied she pointing to a neat Building which rose up amidst the grove of Elms and which I had not before observed—) I agreed and we instantly walked to it—we knocked at the door—it was opened by an old woman; on being requested to afford us a Night's Lodging, she informed us that her House was but small, that she had only two Bedrooms, but that However we should be wellcome to one of them. We were satisfied and followed the good woman into the House where we were greatly cheered by the sight of a comfortable fire—. She was a Widow and had only one Daughter, who was then just seventeen—One of the best of ages; but alas! she was very plain and her name was Bridget. . . . Nothing therfore could be expected from her—she could not be supposed to possess either exalted Ideas, Delicate Feelings or refined Sensibilities—. She was nothing more than a mere good-tempered, civil and obliging young woman; as such we could scarcely dislike her—she was only an Object of Contempt—.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 14th

LAURA in continuation

ARM yourself my amiable young Freind with all the philosophy you are Mistress of; summon up all the fortitude you possess, for alas! in the perusal of the following Pages your sensibility will be most severely tried, Ah! what were the misfortunes I had before experienced and which I have already related to you, to the one I am now going to inform you of. The Death of my Father my Mother, and my Husband though almost more than gentle nature could support, were trifles in comparison to the misfortune I am now proceeding to relate. The morning after our arrival at the Cottage, Sophia complained of a violent pain in her delicate limbs, accompanied with a disagreable Headake. She attributed it to a cold caught by her continued faintings in the open air as the Dew was falling the Evening before. This I feared was but too probably the case; since how could it be otherwise accounted for that I should have escaped the same indisposition, but by supposing that the bodily Exertions I had undergone in my repeated fits of frenzy had so effectually circulated and warmed my Blood as to make me proof against the chilling Damps of Night, whereas, Sophia lying totally inactive on the ground must have been exposed to all their severity. I was most seriously alarmed by her illness which trifling as it may appear to you, a certain instinctive sensibilty whispered me, would in the End be fatal to her.

Alas! my fears were but too fully justified; she grew gradually worse—and I daily became more alarmed for her. At length she was obliged to confine herself solely to the Bed allotted us by our worthy Landlady—. Her disorder turned to a galloping Consumption and in a few days carried her off. Amidst all my Lamentations for her (and violent you may suppose they were) I yet received some consolation in the reflection of my having paid every attention to her, that could be offered, in her illness. I had wept over her every Day—had bathed her sweet face with my tears and had pressed her fair Hands continually in mine—. "My beloved Laura (said she to me a few Hours before she died) take warning from my unhappy End and avoid the imprudent conduct which had occasioned it ... Beware of fainting-fits, . . Though at the time they may be refreshing and agreable yet beleive me they will in the end, if too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove destructive to your Constitution . . . My fate will teach you this . . I die a Martyr to my grief for the loss of Augustus . . One fatal swoon has cost me my Life . . B'eware of swoons Dear Laura. ... A frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is an exercise to the Body and if not too violent, is I dare say conducive to Health in its consequences——Run mad as often as you chuse; but do not faint—"

These were the last words she ever addressed to me . . It was her dieing Advise to her afflicted Laura, who has ever most faithfully adhered to it.

After having attended my lamented freind to her Early Grave, I immediately (tho' late at night) left the detested Village in which she died, and near which had expired my Husband and Augustus. I had not walked many yards from it before I was overtaken by a stage-coach, in which I instantly took a place, determined to proceed in it to Edinburgh, where I hoped to find some kind some pitying Freind who would receive and comfort me in my afflictions.

It was so dark when I entered the Coach that I could not distinguish the Number of my Fellow-travellers; I could only perceive that they were many. Regardless however of anything concerning them, I gave myself up to my own sad reflections. A general silence prevailed—A silence, which was by nothing interrupted but by the loud and repeated snores of one of the Party.

"What an illiterate villain must that man be! (thought I to myself) What a total want of delicate refinement must he have, who can thus shock our senses by such a brutal noise! He must I am certain be capable of every bad action! There is no crime too black for such a Character!" Thus reasoned I within myself, and doubtless such were the reflections of my fellow travellers.

At length, returning Day enabled me to behold the unprincipled Scoundrel, who had so violently disturbed my feelings. It was Sir Edward the father of my Deceased Husband. By his side, sate Augusta, and on the same seat with me were your Mother and Lady Dorothea. Imagine my -surprise at finding myself thus seated amongst my old Acquaintance. Great as was my astonishment, it was yet increased, when on looking out of Windows, I beheld the Husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his side, on the Coach-box and when on looking behind I beheld, Philander and Gustavus in the Basket. "Oh! Heavens, (exclaimed I) is it possible that I should so unexpectedly be surrounded by my nearest Relations and Connections"? These words roused the rest of the Party, and every eye was directed to the corner in which I sat. "Oh! my Isabel (continued I throwing myself across Lady Dorothea in to her arms) receive once more to your Bosom the unfortunate Laura. Alas! when we last parted in the Vale of Usk, I was happy in being united to the best of Edward's; I had then a Father and a Mother, and had never known misfortunes— But now deprived of every freind but you——"

"What! (interrupted Augusta) is my Brother dead then? Tell us I entreat you what is become of him?" "Yes, cold and insensible Nymph, (replied I) that luckless swain your Brother, is no more, and you may now glory in being the Heiress of Sir Edward's fortune."

Although I had always despised her from the Day I had overheard her conversation with my Edward, yet in civility I complied with hers and Sir Edward's intreaties that I would inform them of the whole melancholy affair. They were greatly shocked—even the obdurate Heart of Sir Edward and the insensible one of Augusta, were touched with sorrow, by the unhappy tale. At the request of your Mother I related to them every other misfortune which had befallen me since we parted. Of the imprisonment of Augustus and the Absence of Edward—of our arrival in Scotland—of our unexpected Meeting with our Grand-father and our cousins—of our visit to Macdonald-Hall—of the singular service we there performed towards Janetta—of her Fathers ingratitude for it . . . of his inhuman Behaviour, unaccountable suspicions, and barbarous treatment of us, in obliging us to leave the House . . . of our lamentations on the loss of Edward and Augustus and finally of the melancholy Death of my beloved Companion.

Pity and surprise were strongly depictured in your Mother's countenance, during the whole of my narration, but I am sorry to say, that to the eternal reproach of her sensibility, the latter infinitely predominated. Nay, faultless as my conduct had certainly been during the whole course of my late misfortunes and adventures, she pretended to find fault with my behaviour in many of the situations in which I had been placed. As I was sensible myself, that I had always behaved in a manner which reflected Honour on my Feeling and Refinement, I paid little attention to what she said, and desired her to satisfy my Curiosity by informing me how she came ther, instead of wounding my spotless reputation with unjustifiable Reproaches. As soon as she had complyed with my wishes in this particular and had given me an accurate detail of every thing that had befallen her since our separation (the particulars of which if you are not already acquainted with, your Mother will give you) I applied to Augusta for the same information respecting herself, Sir Edward and Lady Dorothea.

She told me that having considerable taste for the Beauties of Nature, her curiosity to behold the delightful scenes it exhibited in that part of the World had been so much raised by Gilpin's Tour to the Highlands, that she had prevailed on her Father to undertake a Tour of Scotland and had persuaded Lady Dorothea to accompany them. That they had arrived at Edinburgh a few Days before and from thence had made daily Excursions into the Country around in the Stage Coach they were then in, from one of which Excursions they were at that time returning. My next enquiries were concerning Philippa and her Husband, the latter of whom I learned having spent all her fortune, had recouse for subsistence to the talent in which, he had always most excelled, namely, Driving, and that having sold every thing which belonged to them except their Coach, had converted it into a Stage and in order to be removed from any of his former Acquaintance, had driven it to Edinburgh from whence he went to Sterling every other Day. That Philippa still retaining her affection for her ungratefull Husband, had followed him to Scotland and generally accompanied him in his little Excursions to Sterling. "It has only been to throw a little money into their Pockets (continued Augusta) that my Father has always travelled in their Coach to view the beauties of the Country since our arrival in Scotland—for it would certainly have been much more agreable to us, to visit the Highlands in a Postchaise than merely to travel from Edinburgh to Sterling and from Sterling to Edinburgh every other Day in a crowded and uncomfortable Stage." I perfectly agreed with her in her sentiments on the affair, and secretly blamed Sir Edward for thus sacrificing his Daughter's Pleasure for the sake of a ridiculous old woman whose folly in marrying so young a man ought to be punished. His Behaviour however was entirely of a peice with his general Character; for what could be expected from a man who possessed not the smallest atom of Sensibility, who scarcely knew the meaning of simpathy, and who actually snored—.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 15th

LAURA in continuation.

WHEN we arrived at the town where we were to Breakfast, I was determined to speak with Philander and Gustavus, and to that purpose as soon as I left the Carriage, I went to the Basket and tenderly enquired after their Health, expressing my fears of the uneasiness of their situation. At first they seemed rather confused at my appearance dreading no doubt that I might call them to account for the money which our Grandfather had left me and which they had unjustly deprived me of, but finding that I mentioned nothing of the Matter, they desired me to step into the Basket as we might there converse with greater ease. Accordingly I entered and whilst the rest of the party were devouring green tea and buttered toast, we feasted ourselves in a more refined and sentimental Manner by a confidential Conversation. I informed them of every thing which had befallen me during the course of my life, and at my request they related to me every incident of theirs.

"We are the sons as you already know, of the two youngest Daughters which Lord Saint Clair had by Laurina an italian opera girl. Our mothers could neither of them exactly ascertain who were our Father, though it is generally beleived that Philander, is the son of one Philip Jones a Bricklayer and that my Father was Gregory Staves a Staymaker of Edinburgh. This is however of little consequence for as our Mothers were certainly never married to either of them it reflects no Dishonour on our Blood, which is of a most ancient and unpolluted kind. Bertha (the Mother of Philander) and Agatha (my own Mother) always lived together. They were neither of them very rich; their united fortunes had originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they had always lived upon the principal of it, when we were fifteen it was diminished to nine Hundred. This nine Hundred, they always kept in a Drawer in one of the Tables which stood in our common sitting Parlour, for the convenience of having it always at Hand. Whether it was from this circumstance, of its being easily taken, or from a wish of being independent, or from an excess of sensibility (for which we were always remarkable) I cannot now determine, but certain it is that when we had reached our 15th year, we took the nine Hundred Pounds and ran away. Having obtained this prize we were determined to manage it with economy and not to spend it either with folly or Extravagance. To this purpose we therefore divided it into nine parcels, one of which we devoted to Victuals, the 2nd to Drink, the 3rd to Housekeeping, the 4th to Carriages, the 5th to Horses, the 6th to Servants, the 7th to Amusements the 8th to Cloathes and the 9th to Silver Buckles. Having thus arranged our Expences for two months (for we expected to make the nine Hundred Pounds last as long) we hastened to London and had the good luck to spend it in 7 weeks and a Day which was 6 Days sooner than we had intended. As soon as we had thus happily disencumbered ourselves from the weight of so much money, we began to think of returning to our Mothers, but accidentally hearing that they were both starved to Death, we gave over the design and determined to engage ourselves to some strolling Company of Players, as we had always a turn for the Stage. Accordingly we offered our services to one and were accepted; our Company was indeed rather small, as it consisted only of the Manager his wife and ourselves, but there were fewer to pay and the only inconvenience attending it was the Scarcity of Plays which for want of People to fill the Characters, we could perform. We did not mind trifles however—. One of our most admired Performances was Macbeth, in which we were truly great. The Manager always played Banquo himself, his Wife my Lady Macbeth. I did the Three Witches and Philander acted all the rest. To say the truth this tragedy was not only the Best, but the only Play we ever performed; and after having acted it all over England, and Wales, we came to Scotland to exhibit it over the remainder of Great Britain. We happened to be quartered in that very Town, where you came and met your Grandfather—. We were in the Inn-yard when his Carriage entered and perceiving by the arms to whom it belonged, and knowing that Lord St. Clair was our Grandfather, we agreed to endeavour to get something from him by discovering the Relationship—. You know how well it succeeded—. Having obtained the two Hundred Pounds, we instantly left the Town, leaving our Manager and his Wife to act Macbeth by themselves, and took the road to Sterling, where we spent our little fortune with great eclat. We are now returning to Edinburgh in order to get some preferment in the Acting way; and such my Dear Cousin is our History."

I thanked the amiable Youth for his entertaining narration, and after expressing my wishes for their Welfare and Happiness, left them in their little Habitation and returned to my other Freinds who impatiently expected me.

My adventures are now drawing to a close my dearest Marianne; at least for the present.

When we arrived at Edinburgh Sir Edward told me that as the Widow of his son, he desired I would accept from his Hands of four Hundred a year. I graciously promised that I would, but could not help observing that the unsimpathetic Baronet offered it more on account of my being the Widow of Edward than in being the refined and amiable Laura.

I took up my residence in a romantic Village in the Highlands of Scotland where I have ever since continued, and where I can uninterrupted by unmeaning Visits, indulge in a melancholy solitude, my unceasing Lamentations for the Death of my Father, my Mother, my Husband and my Freind.

Augusta has been for several years united to Graham the Man of all others most suited to her; she became acquainted with him during her stay in Scotland.

Sir Edward in hopes of gaining an Heir to his Title and Estate, at the same time married Lady Dorothea—. His wishes have been answered.

Philander and Gustavus, after having raised their reputation by their Performances in the Theatrical Line in Edinburgh, removed to Covent Garden, where they still Exhibit under the assumed names of Luvis and Quick.

Philippa has long paid the Debt of Nature, Her Husband however still continues to drive the Stage-Coach from Edinburgh to Sterling:—

Adeiu my Dearest Marianne.

Laura.

Finis

June 13th 1790.