ful and lingering. I have lived to behold the hour in which her existence was grievous to me: nay, I have lived to look upon her in the hour of death, without shedding tears at her dissolution. Indeed her departure was a relief to me. She had suffered extremely, and, for nearly a week before her death, had only short intervals of sense, in which she was unable to articulate her wants. In the evening on which she died, her senses returned, and she acknowledged us all, rewarding us with many thanks for our attention to her. She was then seized with a difficulty of breathing and slight convulsion, which did not appear very alarming to me, because I had seen her recover from the same symptoms before. I was the only person in the room when these began to abate, and she seemed to fall into a sound sleep, breathing without difficulty. I sat beside her, looking in her face; and the ease with which she slept soon inclined me to nod. I almost fell from my chair more than once; and being apprehensive that I might disturb her if I persisted, I went into the next room, to lie down upon a mattress which was on the floor. I met my eldest sister at the door, and desired her to give me notice when I was wanted. I had scarce laid myself down, when she came and informed me that her breath had ceased. I returned imme

diately into the room, and was witness to two slight efforts made by nature to recover the action of the lungs; which not being attended with success, she gave up the contest without deranging a single feature. The eyelid was still closed, the hand reclined upon the side of the easy-chair, into which she had been partly raised from the bed, and not one attitude of the composure in which I left her had been disturbed. If I had thought myself forsaken by my Maker in the former stages of my calamity, here I became sensible of his goodness. I saw in the strongest light the peculiar blessing of a peaceful end, and I saw that end bestowed upon a little girl, for whom I should more earnestly have petitioned it than for myself.

Thus, Sir, was I deprived of a gem, which has literally hung about my neck all the days of my life, and never lost its lustre. Thus did I bid adieu to a little motherly comforter, who has ever been as a part of myself, and without whom I know not how I shall exist. I pray that my days, if they are not few, may at least be speedy, that I may make haste to meet her in the grave. I have promised her that she shall sleep beside me, and have appointed her a place at my right hand, a situation she always loved, and from which, God

knows, I never wished her to depart. Yes, my gentle Isabel, my invaluable Margaret, thou who hast been always in my eye,

Attentively regarding all I said,

And soothing all my pains with sweet concern,

thou shalt rest beside me in the grave, as well as in the cradle. I will come to thee, though thou art not able to return to me. I will endeavour to deserve, as well as thou hast done, and trust to God's mercy that I shall find thee again. And I pray him most devoutly, that wherever thou art, the sense of my unhappiness may not reach thee.

• When I write again, I will give you some ac. count of my little girl's natural endowments and of her attainments.'

The subject of which letter being closely connected with the one already transcribed, I shall present it also to the reader.

I promised to give you some account of my little girl's natural endowments, and of her attainments. As to the former, you will perhaps be surprised to learn, that she was the plainest of all my family. Her figure was good, her action was graceful; but in her countenance there were many

defects. She was sensible of it, and would never give me her profile. I was therefore driven to the painful necessity of stealing it after she was dead. But for her carelessness without, Nature had made ample amends by her liberality within. Her disposition was so friendly, humane, and gentle, that it was impossible to know her and not esteem her. She was always attended by good-humour, compassion, and pleasantry. Her genius was capable of the greatest undertakings, and she never lost an hour in improving it. Reading was her delight from her childhood; and you will scarce believe that at four and twenty she could have obtained the knowledge of which I know she was possessed. Of historical, biographical, and moral writers, she read every thing she could lay her hands on, and retained facts and dates with the nicest accuracy. In any chronological doubt, in any family anecdote, in any connection formed among great men, whether princes or scholars, I know of no person who was better qualified to pass an immediate decision. In her earlier years she was extremely fond of figures. I observed the propensity, and encouraged it. She followed me with the greatest ease through the most arduous rules of arithmetic, through fractions, through decimals, through algebra, and the first rudiments of

geometry. I then turned her aside to astronomical calculations; and when she was taken ill, she was upon the point of framing an almanack for the year 1793, upon a new construction, which was to be presented to Mr. Cowper, and to be called the Poet's Almanack. The new and full moons, as well as the eclipses, were all to have been calculated, and the latter delineated by herself. In matters of this kind she had long since been expert, and could be certain of predicting any eclipse, however distant, without an error in time of more than two minutes. Her facility in music justly entitled her to the name which I gave her, the leader of my band. It was her office to play the organ, while her two sisters* sung, and I accompanied on the violoncello. I have often envied her the ease with which she acquired whatever she would. I practised much more than she did, but found she could always overtake me. If she chose, she could be rapid; but she wished rather to be scientific and expressive. She once entertained a desire to engage in the pursuit of languages. I told her I did not think it the province of a woman. It could never be useful or ornamental; for the

* Our Author had five sisters at this time; but three only were resident with him.

PUBLISHER.