 yes—I then asked her mama's name, and she

answered D'Olivet—I instantly sat down and wrote in French, what follows—

A Madame D'OLIVET.

I have this day seen and conversed with your lovely daughter; and, from her innocent, yet sensible discourse, I have learned that you are ill, and unhappy.—I have reason to apprehend that the treatment you have received, from a gentleman of this country, may naturally prejudice you against all its inhabitants; but let me assure you, that humanity and justice are the real characteristics of this nation; and that if you stand in need of either, you may depend on meeting them in the highest degree, both from our manners, and our laws.

I beg leave now, Madam, to offer you any assistance that is in the power of an individual of your own sex, of some rank and consideration in this country; who will esteem it a very great happiness if she can be in any way serviceable to the injured, or oppressed; and who most solemnly assures you, that whatever confidence you are pleased to repose in her, shall never be made use of, but to your own advantage, as it is not curiosity, but compassion, that inclines her to interest herself in your concerns.—If you think an interview with the writer of this proper, please to contrive the means, and she will most readily concur with your design, as she is possessed of the sincerest inclination, though unknown to you, to do every thing that may be in

her power, for your service; and is with great truth, your unknown friend,

The child carried away the billet, and returned in less than ten minutes, to tell me that her mama had neither pen, ink, or paper; but if I would be so good to let her have them, she would write an answer immediately, and in the mean time returned me a thousand thanks, for the honour of my letter.—The dear little Olivet took my hand, kissed it, and said she was sure she should love me; for she thought I had done her mama good already.—I immediately furnished her with my own porte-feuille, which contained all the necessary implements for writing; and waited, not without some degree of impatience, to have this mystery

explained.—Lucy and Harriet returned from their airing, soon after this adventure; but I did not think it proper to mention the affair to them, till I was more fully informed myself.—I heard nothing farther of the child, or her mother, till I retired
