these dignities things of accident, in which the owners had no share, and of which they are generally unworthy? And shall hope be thus cowed and killed, without my daring to exert the first and most unalienable of the rights of man, freedom of thought? Shall I not examine what these high distinctions truly are, of which the bearers are so vain?
This Clifton—! Thou knowest not how he treats me. And can she approve, can she second his injustice?—

Surely not!—Yet does she not dedicate her smiles to him, her conversation, her time? Does she not shun me, discountenance me, and reprove me, by her silence and her averted eyes?
Once again it must and shall have an end!—I have repeated this too often; but my next shall shew thee I am at length determined.
F. HENLEY.


ANNA WENBOURNE ST. IVES TO LOUISA CLIFTON.
Chateau de Villebrun.
AN affair has just happened in this country which is the universal topic of conversation. The daughter of a noble and wealthy family has fallen in love with a man of uncommon learning, science, and genius, but a musician. In consequence of his great skill and reputation,

he was employed to teach her music; and she it appears was too sensible, at least for the decorum of our present manners, of his worth.
The ability to discover his merit implies merit in herself, and the musician and lady were equally enamoured of each other. A plan for elopement consequently was laid, and put in execution; but not effectually, for, before the lovers had passed the confines of the kingdom, they were pursued and overtaken.
The musician knew his own personal danger, and by a stratagem fortunately escaped from his bonds, and attained a place of safety. The lady was brought back; and, from the severity of the French laws and the supposed atrocity

of the crime, it is generally affirmed that the musician, notwithstanding his talents and fame, had he been secured, would have been executed.
I have mentioned this adventure, my dear Louisa, not so much for it's own sake as for what relates to myself. It was natural that I should feel compassion for mistakes, if mistakes they be, which have so great an affinity to virtue; and that I should plead for the lovers, and against the barbarity of laws so unjust and inhuman. For it is certain that, had not the musician been put to death, his least punishment would have been perpetual imprisonment.
In a former letter I mentioned the increasing alarms of Sir Arthur