if it had been the Hoof of the Animal it appertained to.

Alas! poor Brute! he is utterly incorrigible I believe! I have several

Times attempted persuading him to keep his Nails within some tolerable Bounds of civilized Longitude; for at present they are entirely in a State of unimproved Nature, full as Extensive and infinitely less Delicate than the Talóns of a Chinese Mandarin; but I have not the Happiness of discovering the least Shadow of Improvement arising from it. Ah Thorobred, thou art a well meaning Fellow! But 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, my Dear Baronet, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉!
Adieu, Charles, Yours, George Melmoth.

CHARLES MELMOTH to WILLIAM EASY.
Melmoth Place,July,
My Dear Easy.
I AM sorry to write on a Subject which I doubt not will sensibly afflict you. Our poor Friend Harry is no more! I received a Letter Yesterday from Ned Freeman, who went Abroad with him, informing me of his Decease.
Wearied of Life (says he) before he had well entered into it; with a Temper soured by Reflexion, and a Constitution ruined by Excess, he died unknown and unregarded at Lisbon in the twenty-second Year of his Age. Except Myself and his

Servant there was not a Soul in the Place that he could speak to. We were with him in his last Moments, and, I declare to you that it was with the utmost difficulty I supported myself through the Scene. There is at all Times something inconceivably Awful in that last Agony of convulsed Nature. But in the present Instance it was particularly so. To see him Pale and Emaciated, falling in the Prime of Youth, a Sacrifice to his own Imprudence. To see every Feature distorted, every Nerve striving with its Dissolution, and Nature by her strong repeated Struggles, loudly exclaiming that her Time was not yet come; is a Spectacle too affecting to be looked upon with

Composure. It was near three Hours before he breathed his last, with his Eyes fixed stedfastly on me, and his Hands firmly grasping one of mine. Before you receive this, I shall probably be on my Passage to England, with our poor Friend's Body.

Surely, Easy, this is a Melacholy History! The Inattention of his Guardians, and the certain Prospect of an immense Fortune immediately upon his coming of Age, were the Cause of his Misfortunes. Happy had it been for him, if his Father had lived a few Years longer! It is amazing too how greatly his Manner of Life had altered his Disposition. He had latterly lost all