 with double fury, to wreck this feeble bark—Be that as it may, I shall ever remain
Your truly affectionate sister, L. BARTON.
P.S. Where and how is Mrs. Walter? assure her of my kindest remembrance: her sufferings are so deeply engraved on my heart, that not even my own can efface them—Happy Fanny! that have been able to mitigate even a part of her sorrows, by removing the bitter pangs of maternal anxiety for the fate of a beloved child!



Paris.
THE seeing my letter dated from this place, will in some measure account to my dear Louisa, for my silence, at a time when she stood most in need of every consolation that friendship could bestow on a tenderly beloved and suffering sister—I am however selfish enough to rejoice that I was unacquainted with the danger that threatened your life, till it was past, for I had the painful pleasure of receiving both your letters, on my arrival here, last night.
Truly distressing and affecting as they are, my head is at present so filled with

the extraordinary events which have happened within a very short space, that though my heart is truly sensible of your afflictions, I find it impossible to give its feelings vent, till I have informed you of a circumstance which I am certain will afford you the sincerest pleasure.
Delia! my brother's beloved Delia! Delia Colville lives! as Zanga says,
"First recover that, and then you shall hear further."
—Our good angel! our dear Mrs. Walter! received a letter from Pere Guillaume, about the middle of last month, acquainting her that he would meet her at Calais, and attend her to what part of France she pleased; but were he to recommend any particular convent, it should be Les Dames Ursulines, at St. Omers, as the superior

was his near relation, and particular friend.

This reeommendation was perfectly agreeable to Mrs. Walter, for many reasons; the vicinity of St. Omers to England, was perhaps the strongest, as it flattered her with the hopes of seeing me, at some time or other, if she lived; and rendered the immediate removal of her daughter convenient, in case of her death.
I accompanied her to Dover, and feared that I had taken my last farewell of my amiable friend, when I saw her embark for Calais—I heard from her, in a few days after our parting, and she was not worse—I had then determined to spend the remainder of the summer

at Cleveland-hall, in executing some little romantic plans of improvement, in order to amuse myself
