and able to contrive some plausible pretence to her brother, for breaking off the match: and as this would be the first falshood she had ever told him, she hoped it might be considered as a pious fraud, only.

AFTER this conversation, she grew perfectly composed; I left her retired to rest: but I fear she has disturbed mine, for this night. What an amiable heart is hers? While yet smarting with undeserved wounds, she would preserve the cruel wretch who inflicted them! I will religiously keep my promise to her; yet cannot help sincerely wishing, that his crime may be his punishment; and, I think, he bids fair for being overpaid in kind.
MISS Nelson, now lady Miller, is at least twenty-nine, and has been a remarkable coquette these ten years; yet never could catch a poor unguarded fly in her net, till Sir James rushed in.—She was perfectly acquainted with his attachment to Lucy; had requested to be her bridemaid; yet could think of separating them for ever! May they be mutual avengers of each other's perfidy!
I FEEL myself in an unchristian mood; I cannot help it; I pity folly, but detest vice! Alas! my Emily, I am too severe; for they are, in general, synonimous terms. I will, in charity, wish you good night; for if I write on, I shall rail more: therefore, 
F. S.



I AM so violently provoked at the insolent baseness of that abominable Miller, that I cannot find words to express my resentment. I do not think you seem sufficiently rejoiced at

Lucy's escape from such a monster: for my part, I am delighted at the thoughts of his being married to such a woman as Miss Nelson—May she render him just as miserable as he deserves to be!—His greatest enemy could not wish him worse.
BUT there are more wretches in the world, than he; and Lucy is not without companions in affliction. The willow grows on purpose for our sex; and were it to be watered, only by the tears drawn from beauteous eyes, by the perfidy of men, it would need no other moisture. Poor lady Harriet! an accident has discovered the cause of her too frequent sighs
YESTERDAY morning after breakfast, when the gentlemen had retired to their seperate amusements, lady Harriet, Miss Weston, and I, were in my dressing-room. Lady Harriet took up Prior's Poems, and was reading Henry and Emma, to Fanny and me, who were at work; when in rushed