things further to say, on the contents of this important pacquet; or I should not have concluded so uncharacteristically.

Florence, July 18-29.
I Begin, dear and admirable Lady Clementina, the permitted correspondence, with a due sense of the favour done me in it: Yet, can I say, that it is not a painful favour? Was ever man before circumstanced as I am?—Permitted to admire the noblest and most amiable of women, and even generously allowed to look upon himself as a man esteemed, perhaps more than esteemed, by her, and her illustrious family; yet in honour forbidden to solicit for a blessing that once was designed for him; and which he is not accused of demeriting by misbehaviour, or by assuming an appearance that he made not good—Excellent Lady! Am I other than you ever had reason to think me, in my manners, in my principles? Did I ever endeavour to unsettle you in your attachments to the religion of your country? No, madam: Invincibly attached as I knew you were to that religion, I contented myself with avowing my own; and indeed should have thought it an ill requital for the protection I enjoyed from the civil and ecclesiastical powers, and a breach of the Laws of hospitality, had I attempted to unsettle the beloved daughter of a house so firmly likewise attached, as they always were, to their principles. From such a conduct, could this beloved daughter doubt the free exercise of her religion, had she—
But, hushed be the complainings, that my expostulating

heart will hardly be denied to dictate to my pen! Have I not said, that I will be all you wish me to be—All hope, or all acquiescence—Forgive me, madam, forgive me, dear and ever-to-be respected family, that yet I use the word hope. Such a prize almost in possession—can I forbear to say hope?—Yet do I not at the same time promise acquiescence?—Painful as it is to me, and impossible as it would be, were not all-commanding conscience pleaded, most excellent of women! I will, I do, acquiesce. If you persevere, dear to my soul as you ever must be, I resign to your will.
The disappointed heart, not given up to unmanly despair, in a world so subject to disappointments, will catch at the next good to that it has lost—Shall I not hope, madam, that a correspondence so allowably begun, whatever be the issue in the greater event, will for ever last? That a friendship so pure will ever be allowed? That the