privately will account for the uncle's and mother's denying it.

However, fail not, as from me, to charge our mother and her nymphs to redouble their vigilance both as to her person and letters. All's upon a crisis now. But she must not be treated ill neither.

Thursday over, I shall know what to resolve upon.

If necessary, you must assume authority. The devil's in't, if such a girl as this shall awe a man of your years and experience. You are not in love with her as I am. Fly out, if she doubt your honour. Spirits naturally soft may be beat out of their play and borne down (though ever so much raised) by higher anger. All women are cowards at bottom; only violent where they may. I have often stormed a girl out of her mistrust, and made her yield (before she knew where she was) to the point indig. nantly mistrusted; and that to make up with me, though I was the aggressor.

If this matter succeed as I'd have it, (or if not, and do not fail by your fault,) I will take you off the necessity of pursuing your cursed smuggling; which otherwise may one day end fatally for you.

We are none of us perfect, M'Donald. This sweet lady makes me serious sometimes in spite of my heart. But as private vices are less blamable than public; and as I think smuggling (as it is called) a national evil; I have no doubt to pronounce you a much worse man than myself, and as such shall take pleasure in reforming you.

I send you enclosed ten guineas, as a small earnest of further favours. Hitherto you have been a very clever fellow.

As to clothes for Thursday, Monmouth-street will afford

a ready supply. Clothes quite new would make your condition suspected. But you may defer that care, till you see if she can be prevailed upon. Your riding-dress will do for the first visit. Nor let your boots be over clean. I have always told you the consequence of attend. ing to the minutia, where art (or imposture, as the illmannered would call it) is designed-your linen rumpled and soily, when you wait upon her-easy terms thesejust come to town-remember (as formerly) to loll, to throw out your legs, to stroke and grasp down you ruffles, as if of significance enough to be careless. What though the presence of a fine lady would require a different beha viour, are you not of years to dispense with politeness? You can have no design upon her, you know. You are a father yourself of daughters as old as she. parade and obsequiousness suspectable: either a foolish head, or a knavish heart. consequence therefore; and you will be treated as a man of consequence. I have often more than half ruined myself by my complaisance; and, being afraid of controul, have brought controul upon myself.

Evermore is it must show Assume airs of

I think I have no more to say at present. I intend to be at Slough, or on the way to it, as by mine to the lady. Adieu, honest M'Donald.

R. L.

LETTER XXII.

TO CAPTAIN ANTONY TOMLINSON.

[Enclosed in the preceding; to be shown to the Lady as in confidence.]

DEAR CAPT. TOMLINSON,

M. Hall, Tuesday Morn. June 27.

An unhappy misunderstanding having arisen between the dearest lady in the world and me (the particulars of which she perhaps may give you, but I will not, because I might be thought partial to myself;) and she refusing to answer my most pressing and respectful letters; I am at a most perplexing uncertainty whether she will meet us or not next Thursday to solemnize.

My Lord is so extremely ill, that if I thought she would not oblige me, I would defer going up to town for two or three days. He cares not to have me out of his sight: yet is impatient to salute my beloved as his niece before he dies. This I have promised to give him an opportunity to do intending, if the dear creature will make me happy, to set out with her for this place directly from church.

With regret I speak it of the charmer of my soul, that irreconcilableness is her family-fault-the less excusable indeed in her, as she herself suffers by it in so high a de gree from her own relations.

Now, Sir, as you intended to be in town some time before Thursday, if it be not too great an inconvenience to you, I could be glad you would go up as soon as possible, for my sake and this I the more boldly request, as I

presume that a man who has so many great affairs of his own in hand as you have, would be glad to be at a certainty himself as to the day.

You, Sir, can so pathetically and justly set before her the unhappy consequences that will follow if the day be postponed, as well with regard to her uncle's disappointment, as to the part you have assured me her mother is willing to take in the wished-for reconciliation, that I have great hopes she will suffer herself to be prevailed upon. And a man and horse shall be in waiting to take your dispatches and bring them to me.

But if you cannot prevail in my favour, you will be pleased to satisfy your friend, Mr.John Harlowe, that it is not my fault that he is not obliged. I am, dear Sir,

Your extremely obliged

and faithful servant,

R. LOVELACE.

I

LETTER XXIII.

TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

HONOURED SIR,

Wedn. June 28, near Twelve o'clock.

Horse and inan were in a

RECEIVED your's, as your servant desired me to acquaint you, by ten this morning.

foam.

I instantly equipped myself, as if come off from a jour. ney, and posted away to the lady, intending to plead great affairs that I came not before, in order to favour your antedate; and likewise to be in a hurry, to have a pretence to hurry her ladyship, and to take no denial for her

giving a satisfactory return to your messenger. But, upon my entering Mrs. Sinclair's house, I found all in the greatest consternation.

You must not, Sir, be surprised.

It is a trouble to me

to be the relater of the bad news; but so it is—The lady is gone off! She was missed but half an hour before I

came.

Her waiting-maid is run away, or hitherto is not to be found: so that they conclude it was by her conni.

vance.

They had sent, before I came, to my honoured masters Mr. Belton, Mr. Mowbray, and Mr. Belford. Mr. Tourville is out of town.

High words are passing between Madam Sinclair, and Madam Horton, and Madam Martin; as also with Dorcas. And your servant William threatens to hang or drown himself.

They have sent to know if they can hear of Mabell, the waiting-maid, at her mother's, who it seems lives in Chicklane, West-Smithfield; and to an uncle of her's also, who keeps an alehouse at Cow-cross, hard by, and with whom she lived last.

Your messenger having just changed his horse, is come back: so I will not detain him longer than to add, that I am, with great concern for this misfortune, and thanks for your seasonable favour and kind intentions towards me— I am sure this was not my fault

Honoured Sir,

Your most obliged, humble servant,

PATRICK M'DONALD.