generous and beneficent action, they are able to behave greatly. We should not too soon, and without makeing proper applications, give up persons of ability or power, upon conceptions of their general characters; and then, with the herd, set our faces against them, as if we knew them to be invincible. How many

ways are there to overcome persons, who may not, however, be naturally beneficent! Policy, a regard for outward appearances, ostentation, love of praise, will sometimes have great influences; and not seldom is the requester of a favour himself in fault, who perhaps shews as much self in the application, as the refuser does in the denial.
Let Charlotte know, that I will write to her when she gives me a subject.
I will write to Lord and Lady L. by the next mail. To write to either is to write to both.
I have already answered Emily's favour. I am very glad that her mother, and her mother's husband, are so wife as to pursue their own interests in their behaviour to that good girl, and their happiness in their conduct to each other.
My poor cousin Grandison—I am concerned for him. I have a very affecting Letter from him. But I see the proud man in it, valuing himself on his knowlege of the world, and rather vexed to be overreached by the common artifices of some of the worst people in it, than from right principles. I know not what I can do for him, except I were on the spot. I am grieved that he has not profited by other mens wisdom: I wish he may by his own experience. I will write to him; yet neither to reproach him, nor to extenuate his folly, tho' I wish to free him from the consequences of it.
I write to my aunt Eleanor, to congratulate and welcome her to London. I hope to find her there on my return from Italy.
The unhappy Sir Hargrave! The still unhappier Merceda! What sport have they made of their health, in the prime of their days; and with their reputation! How poor would have been their triumph, had they escaped, by a flight so ignominious, the due reward of their iniquitous contrivances! But to meet with such a disgraceful punishment, and so narrowly to escape

a still more disgraceful one—Tell me, Can the poor men look out into open day?
But poor Bagenhall! sunk as he is, almost beneath pity, what can be said of him?
We see, Dr. Bartlett, in the behaviour, and