 me upon this ancient

mixture of pride and simplicity of manners, I should swell my letter to the size of a volume.
Yours as ever, C. EVELYN.


MRS. STANLEY TO CHARLES EVELYN.
SO all inconstant swains ought to be served, my good Mr. Evelyn. Here lie two of your letters to my spouse, unopened, and of course unanswered—Had they been addressed to me, the case would have been otherwise, for I love to read letters exceedingly; but you grew tired of my correspondence, forsooth, and have left me off; so that if I was not the best natured sister in the world, I should not now take up the pen to acquaint

you that my husband has eloped!—It is true, Charles—I have not seen him these ten days!—And who do you think has spirited him away from me? why truly his grandfather, Sir John Stanley.—He is turned of ninety, and the express that came from Devonshire informed me that the good old gentleman could not hold out much longer; so that I presume he is now gathered to his fathers and grandfathers, and I may be a Lady at this present writing for ought I know.
His knightship commanded me not to send his letters after him, as he should not stay a moment longer than decency required; for the old gentleman took care that affection or esteem should be entirely out of the question, by behaving like a savage to his family all his life—But peace be with his soul; and I am now glad that he has saved his grandson's feeling heart from being too

much affected at his death—I had like to have said loss, from a figure of speech that you scholars term lapsus linguae.
There is, perhaps, a latent kind of good-nature in behaving ill to one's near connections, for the reason I have hinted; but for my part I am selfish enough to wish to be lamented when I die, and am therefore maliciously resolved to behave as well as I can while I live.
I never was so tempted to do a wrong thing, as I am at this moment to open your letters—But avaunt, foul fiend! tho' I know my sweet William will say—Why did you not, my love?
The temptation does not arise from mere curiosity neither, but I wish to know how far you are acquainted with certain subjects, that I may not tire you with a twice told tale.

But even with the fear of repetition before my eyes, I will venture to say that our dear Emma is extremely happy—I have made many guesses at the cause,
