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a looked-for event; and, considering the natural and gradual decay which usually accompanies an advanced time of life, perhaps it is more to be desired that this period has arrived, which gives to her a passport from sublunary to substantial happiness. Her life has been one of an unchequered round of domestic comfort, except that, in one or two instances, there may have been a few bitters intermingled; yet, upon the whole, far more of solid satisfaction than often falls to the lot of mortals. She is now immortal; and may the bright example she has set, be imitated by those who knew, and can best appreciate her worth. It is matter of regret - of very sincere regret, that I have it not in my power to pay the last duty to the best of parents; but the imperious call of business (arising from the awful situation of the contending powers upon the continent,) renders it quite impossible for me, at this juncture, to leave my post, otherwise I should not be unmindful of the obligation I owe to departed excellence. When last I had the pleasure of seeing you,

I expressed a wish, in the event of losing my parents, that their remains should be deposited within the walls of

your parish mausoleum; and, if it could be effected, it was my wish it should be in the chancel. have the power to order it, or the influence to have it done, I should be much gratified, and glad to offer you my thanks for the indulgence. A pious and rare example of virtue and charity demands the best reward of the affectionate and tender, with whom a long life, well spent, and devoted to benevolent acts, can lay claim.

If you

All that was amiable, good, and kind,
Was seated in her virtuous mind:

Her heart was gen'rous, warm, and free,
Enrich'd with true philanthropy :
Religion was her star and guide,
Unmix'd with envy, scorn, or pride :
No ostentation marked her mien,
Her mind was humble, mild, serene :
No ruffled passions broke her rest,
No jarring tumult rent her breast;
But all was quiet, mild, and free,
To fit her for — Eternity.

You will, I am sure, pardon the effusion of my pen, in endeavouring to draw her portrait; but as she claims the truth, and I have not aimed at more), I cannot withhold it.

I beg my respectful remembrances to Mrs. Troughton and your daughter, and solicit the honour of being considered Your faithful Friend and Servant,


P. S. I have written to my father ; but have abstained from any thing touching the substance of this letter; and any thing which I may have asked, cannot but be acceptable to him as well as to my brothers.

Should you be able to accomplish what I have requested, and you will take the trouble to communicate it to my brother Francis, or, if you think fit, to my father, I am sure it will be considered by them as a flattering mark of your esteem and friendship.



Tavistock Place, September 14, 1813. Your sister, the children, and myself, are uneasy on account of your long silence; but perhaps it may more justly be considered to have arisen from the uncertainty of your letters arriving, owing to the unfortunate situation of both countries.

For some time past I have had indifferent health, and have lately been into Derbyshire for the recovery of it: but I am now better. My indisposition has occasioned my taking Benjamin from the Charter House, who is now an assistant to me at my office. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas lately dined with us.

I some time since informed you of the death of my uncle: my aunt did not long survive him.

My good old mother has also paid the debt of nature, having almost completed her ninetieth year : my father, as you may suppose, is inconsolable for the loss he has sustained. Sixty-five years did this amiable pair enjoy the society of each other; and I may safely aver, with uninterrupted happiness, except what may have arisen from the anxiety inseparable from a large family, and the eager solicitude to promote their welfare.

From the description I have heard of Verdun, I can fancy you pass your time comfortably enough; and, except that you are separated from your friends, I should imagine you cannot be at a loss for amusements.

I forwarded to you, some time since, a letter from Colonel Jackson, which I hope has reached you. My domestic circle is as you left it.

Most sincerely yours,



Tavistock Place, September 27, 1813.

Now that the melancholy rite has been performed, and you have paid the last tribute of attachment to the late excellent partner of your happiness, I hope that your mind has returned to a state of tranquillity, and softened into that calmness of resignation which it befits a good man to be in. The virtues of my dear mother are engraven in the hearts of all who knew her; and her Christian charity fits her for that place, where we who survive her may, by imitating her example, hope to be admitted partners of the lasting happiness, which, no doubt, she is in possession of.

As to your future plans, I cannot advise you what to do, and can only say, that when you feel inclined to come to London, Mrs. Oakley and the girls will do all in their power to make you comfortable; and perhaps the sooner you come to this determination the better. I shall never forget what I owe to you: and my best consolation is, that as the amiable saint never had occasion to reproach me for breaking the fifth commandment; so likewise, if it can soothe you in the rugged path of life, I give you my assurance and pledge, that I will honour you all the days of mine.

Ever affectionately and truly yours,



Tavistock Place, October 21, 1813.

A PARAGRAPH in the Morning Post of yesterday mentions the arrival of “ Captain Brice, late a prisoner at Verdun, on Tuesday last, at his father's house, in Great Cranford, Dorset.” A few days since, a letter was transmitted to me, through the twopenny post, from Captain Butcher, a brother-in-law of mine, in which he mentions his having availed himself of the opportunity of sending it by an officer, who has got his passport in consequence of having been badly wounded in Spain. It strikes me that I am addressing the gentleman who kindly undertook the charge of forwarding it to me; and should I be right in this conjecture, I trust he will not think me troublesome in requesting him, at his leisure and convenience, to inform me of the nature of Captain Butcher's confinement. I have not heard from him (until the receipt of the beforementioned letter) for many months; and when I have, he has communicated so little of his situation, (arising, I suppose, from the strictness of the French police), that I am left in considerable doubt as to his comfort and general state of health. His sister is much distressed in consequence; and any information you may afford will be most grateful to us. I beg to offer my best respects to you, and shall feel very proud if, when you come to town, you will do me the honour to call upon me.

I remain, Sir,
Your obedient Servant,

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