long appear, deceit or falshood would be as weak as wicked.—Then hear the faithful story of my heart, and judge me as one erring mortal should another.

In less than a year after you sailed for Bengal, our dear father died—What an irreparable loss was mine!—I need not tell you that as he was in the church, we were at once deprived of the principal part of his fortune, with his life, and that there did not remain above an hundred pounds a year, being a life annuity, purchased for my mother with her own portion, to support her and me.
The altered countenances and behaviour of those we had formerly called friends, at Gloucester, made my mother determine on quitting a place where, from her want of knowing the world, she considered herself as particularly ill treated.—She was then first taught, that prosperity is the cement of modern friendship; and when that fails, the tottering structure sinks into decay.

She condescended to consult me upon our future scheme of life; though, as I was not then fifteen, I was but ill qualified for an adviser; however, I had heard that Bath was a cheap place of residence, for those who settle themselves as inhabitants there; and as I also believed it to be an agreeable lively scene, I had often wished to go thither, during my father's life; and therefore used all my little rhetoric with my mother, to fix us there.
I prevailed; and the first year we spent in it, was by many degrees the happiest of my life.—We lived in a small house, near the Cross-bath, with the greatest oeconomy.—My mother did not go much into public, but we met with many former acquaintances, who were so obliging

to matronize me to the rooms, playhouse, and walks, as often as it was thought proper to let me appear abroad.
You cannot, my Edward, have forgotten my face and person, and may suppose that I was not without admirers, in the midst of so many gay flutterers as abound at Bath.—There are, I believe, fewer serious engagements made there, than at any place where such a concourse of young people continually meet.—Whether this is owing to the perpetual dissipation they live in, or to the constant rotation of new faces that appear there daily, is not to me material.—My heart, alas! was but too susceptible of a tender impression; and Captain L—, son to Sir Richard L—, first inspired my artless bosom with love.

During the first three months of our