sideration, which, however, ought not to be left out of the account; that a good child will be no less benefited by the warning, as Sir Charles no doubt is, from his father's unhappy turn, than by the example, as he is from that of his excellent mother.

Lady L. referred to the paper given in by the short-hand writer, for the occasion (as mentioned by Sir Charles) to which these three worthy children owed the loss of such a mother*. And this drew her into a melancholy relation of some very affecting particulars. Among other things, she said, her mother regretted, in her last hours, that she had no opportunity, that she could think just and honourable, to lay by any thing considerable for her daughters. Her jewels, and some valuable trinkets, she hoped, would be theirs: but that would be at their father's pleasure. I wish,' said she that my dear girls were to have between them the tenth part of what I have saved-But I have done but my duty.'

'I have told yon, Charlotte,' said the countess, what my mother said to me, a few hours before she died; and I will repeat it to Miss Byron. After having, upon general principles, recommended filial duty and brotherly and sisterly love, to us all ; and after my brother and sister had withdrawn; "My dear Caroline," said she," let me add to the general arguments of the duty I have been enforcing upon you all, one respecting your interest, and let your sister know it. I am afraid there will be but a slender provision made for my dear girls. Your papa has the notion rivetted in him, which is common to men of ancient families, that daughters: are but incumbrances, and that the son is to be

* Letter IV.

every thing. He loves his girls; he loves you dearly; bnt he has often declared, that, were he to have entire all the fortune that descended to him from his father, he would not give to his daughters, marry whom they would, more than 5,000l. a piece. Your brother loves you: he loves me. It will be in his power, should he survive your father, to be a friend to you.-Love your brother."

To my brother afterwards she said something: I believe, recommending his sisters to him; for we coming in, boy as he was in years, but man in behaviour and understanding, he took each of our hands. You remember it, Charlotte;' [both sisters wept;]' and keeling down, and putting them in my mother's held-out dying hands, and bowing his face upon all three-“ All, madam-All, my dearest, best of mamma's, that you have enjoined—”

'He could say no more; and our arms were wet with his tears.'" Enough, enough, my son; I distress you!"-And she kissed her own arm."These are precious tears-You embalm me, my son, with your tears-O how precious the balm?"-And she lifted up her head to kiss his cheek, and to repeat her blessings to the darling of her heart.'

Who could refrain tears, my Lucy, on the representation of such a scene? Miss Jervois and I wept, as if we had been present on the solemn oc

casion.

But, my Charlotte, give Miss Byron some brief account of the parting scene between my father and mother. She is affected as a sister should be.Tears, when time has matured a pungent grief into a sweet melancholy, are not hurtful: they are as the dew of the morning to the green herbage.' 'I cannot,' said Miss Grandison-Do you, La dy L.'

Lady L. proceeded- My father had long kept

his chamber, from the unhappy adventure which cost him and us all so dear. My mother, till she was forced to take to her bed, was constantly his attendant: and then was grieved she could not attend him still.

'At last, the moment, happy to her, long dreaded by us, the releasing moment, approached. One last long farewell she wished to take of the man who had been ever dear to her, and who had cost her so dear. He was told of her desire to be lifted to his bed side in her bed; for one of his wounds (too soon skinned over) was broken out, and he was confined to his bed. He ordered himself to be carried, in a great chair, to hers. But then followed such a scene

'All we three children were in the room, kneeling by the bed side-praying-weeping-O how ineffectually!-Not even hope remaining-" Best beloved of my soul!" in faltering accents said my mother, her head raised by pillows, so as that she sat upright-"Forgive the desire of my heart once more to see you!-They would not bring me to you!—() how I distress you!" for my father sobbed; every feature of his face seemed swelled almost to bursting, and working as if in mortal ago. nies.-Charlotte, relieve me.'

The sweet ladies' eyes were drowned in tears. 'I cannot,' said Miss Grandison; her handkerchief spread over her face.

Miss Emily sobbed. She held her hand before her eyes: her tears trickled through her fingers. I was affected beyond measure-yet besought her to proceed. She went on.

"I have endeavoured," said my mother, in broken sentences, "it was my wish-it was my pride; indeed, my chiefest pride-to be a good wife!"

"O my dear!-you have been-" My father could not say what.

"Forgive my imperfections, sir!—”

"O my dearest life! you had no imperfections: I, I, was all imper-" He could not speak out the word for his tears.

"Bless your children in my sight: God hitherto has blessed them! God will continue to bless them, if they continue to deserve their father's blessing. Dear Sir Thomas, as you love them, bless them in my sight. I doubt not your goodness to them— but the blessing of a dying mother, joined with that of a surviving father-must have efficacy!"

'My father looked earnestly to us all. He could not speak.

My brother following my mother's dying eye, which was cast upon my father, arose from his knees, and approaching my father's chair, cast himself at his feet. My father threw his arms about his neck. "God bless-God bless my son," said he, " and make him a better man than his father." My mother, demanding the cheek of her beloved son, said "God bless my dearest child, and make you an honour to your father's family, and to your mother's memory."

"We girls followed my brother's example.

"God bless my daughters!-Go bless you, sweet loves!" said my father; first kissing one, then the other, as we kneeled.-" God make you as good women as your mother! then, then, will you deserve to be happy."-" God bless you, my dear girls! God bless you both," said my mother, kissing each," as you are dutiful to your father, and as you love one another-I hope I have given yon no bad example."

My father began to accuse himself. My brother, with the piety of the patriarch's two best

sons, retired, that he might not hear his father's confessions. We followed him to the further end of the room. The manly youth sat down between us, and held a hand of each between his: his noble heart was penetrated; he two or three times lifted the hand of each to his lips. But he could only once speak, his heart seeming ready to burst; and that was, as I remember, "O my sisters!-comfort yourselves!-But who can say comfort?— These tears are equally our duty and our relief."

My mother retained to the last that generosity of mind that had ever distinguished her. She would not permit my father to proceed with his self-accusation. "Let us look forward, my dearest, my only love," said she. "I have a blessed hope before me: I pity, as well as pray for, survivors. You are a man of sense, sir, and of enlarged sentiments: God direct you according to them, and comfort you! All my fear was (and that more particularly for some of the last past months) that I should have been the mournful survivor. In a very few moments all my sufferings will be over; and God give you, when you come to this unavoidable period of all human vanity, the same happy prospects that are now opening to me! O, sir! believe me, all worldly joys are now nothing; less than nothing: even my love of you, and of the dear pledges of our mutual love, withholds not now my wishes after a happier state. There may we meet, and never be separated!-Forgive me only, my beloved husband, if I have ever made you for one hour unhappy or uneasy-forgive the petulances of my love!"

"Who can bear this goodness?" said my father. "I have not deserved-"

"Dear sir, no more-Were you not the husband of my choice? And now your grief affects me