 bliss!
J. HARLEY.


LADY STANLEY TO LADY JULIANA.
MY truly loved and most unhappy friend! Why have you broke my heart? I think my tears will never cease to flow. You deign to ask my pity, you have more, much more, my admiration and esteem.—Most truly do I revere your fortitude, and mourn your sorrows.
In what sad ills has your inhuman father's cruelty involved my hapless brother, the ill-fated Harley, and your

dear suffering self? Yet I respect the mildness with which you treat the memory of him who was at once the author of your being, and your woes.
I at this moment blush from recollecting the petulance with which I have often jested with your grief, unknowing of the cause. Can you forgive me Julia? Yes, I know you will, though I cannot pardon myself.
It is impossible that any human being can think you guilty of Mr. Harley's death, and heaven, that judges from intention only, will most surely acquit you. Nor did my unhappy brother, I am well convinced, ever purpose such a crime; his guilt was accidental, and he most surely forfeited his life in expiation of it.—The rigour of the laws could ask no more, and heaven, I trust, accepted of his penitence.

A thousand things recur to my remembrance, that strongly proved my brother wished to die; he concealed his illness till it was past cure, nor even then would be prevailed upon to keep his bed, or take any kind of medicine.
Fear not, my friend, that I shall ever more attempt to change your purpose, or strive to draw you from your sanctuary.—The world contains no joys for grief-worn minds.—The slender superstructure of all earthly pleasures, must soon decay if not supported by an heart at ease.—But those more permanent delights, that arise from an holy and religious fervor, which, like the vital flame, is never extinguished, shall still be yours, and time, that lessens the value of all other enjoyments, will but increase theirs, 'till even this life may afford you sueh a state of happiness, as only can beheightened in the next.

Without your leave I never shall break in on your retirement, yet sure the time may come, when all your sorrows shall subside to rest, and my then sainted friend may look on Lucy's face without emotion. In the mean time my prayers and tears are yours.—Write to me, I entreat you; tell me that grief is banished from your bosom
