* See Letter XX. of this volume.

I shall send this long letter by Collins,* who changes his day to oblige me.  As none of our letters by Wilson’s conveyance have miscarried, when you have been in more apparently-disagreeable situations than you are in at present, [I have no doubt] that this will go safe.

* See Letter XX. of this volume.

Miss Lardner* (whom you have seen hat her cousin Biddulph’s) saw you at St. James’s church on Sunday was fortnight.  She kept you in her eye during the whole time; but could not once obtain the notice of your’s, though she courtesied to you twice.  She thought to pay her compliments to you when the service was over; for she doubted not but you were married—­and for an odd reason—­because you came to church by yourself.  Every eye, (as usual, wherever you are,) she said was upon you; and this seeming to give you hurry, and you being nearer the door than she, you slid out before she could get to you.  But she ordered her servant to follow you till you were housed.  This servant saw you step into a chair which waited for you; and you ordered the men to carry you to the place where they took you up.  She [describes the house] as a very genteel house, and fit to receive people of fashion:  [and what makes me mention this, is, that perhaps you will have a visit from her; or message, at least.]

* See Letter XX. of this volume.

[So that you have Mr. Doleman’s testimony to the credit of the house and people you are with; and he is] a man of fortune, and some reputation; formerly a rake indeed; but married to a woman of family; and having had a palsy blow, one would think a penitent.* You have [also Mr. Mennell’s at least passive testimony; Mr.] Tomlinson’s; [and now, lastly, Miss Lardner’s; so that there will be the less need for inquiry:  but you know my busy and inquisitive temper, as well as my affection for you, and my concern for your honour.  But all doubt will soon be lost in certainty.]

[Nevertheless I must add, that I would have you] command me up, if I can be of the least service or pleasure to you.* I value not fame; I value not censure; nor even life itself, I verily think, as I do your honour, and your friendship—­For is not your honour my honour?  And is not your friendship the pride of my life?

* See Letter XX. of this volume.

May Heaven preserve you, my dearest creature, in honour and safety, is the prayer, the hourly prayer, of

Your ever-faithful and affectionate,
Anna howe.

Thursday morn. 5.

I have written all night. [Excuse indifferent writing; my crow-quills are worn to the stumps, and I must get a new supply.]

***

These ladies always write with crow-quills, Jack.