such as a son might have written to a revered parent.  In it, I begged he would allow me to add to his library, by a purchase of theological works of value, and which, in that day, could only be procured in Europe.  This was to be his memorial of my sister.  I also begged of his friendship an occasional look at Clawbonny, though I did not venture to speak of the mortgage, of which I now felt a sort of conviction he would not approve.

The letter to John Wallingford, was as pithy as his own to me.  I told him my will was made, on a conviction of its perfect propriety, and assured him it would not be altered in a hurry; I told him the sugars were safe, and let him understand that they were already on their way to Hamburg, whence I hoped, ere long, to send him a good account of their sale.

To Lucy, I was by no means so laconic.  On the subject of the pearls of Grace, I begged her to do just as she pleased; adding a request, however, that she would select such others of my sister’s ornaments, as might be most agreeable to herself.  On this point I was a little earnest, since the pearls were not worth the sum Grace had mentioned to me; and I felt persuaded Lucy would not wish me to remain her debtor.  There was a pair of bracelets, in particular, that Grace had highly prized, and which were very pretty in themselves.  My father had purchased the stones—­rubies of some beauty—­in one of his voyages, for my mother, who had fancied them too showy for her to wear.  I had caused them to be set for Grace, and they would make a very suitable ornament for Lucy; and were to be so much the more prized, from the circumstance, that Grace had once worn them.  It is true, they contained a little, though very little of my hair; for on this Grace had insisted; but this hair was rather a blemish, and might easily be removed.  I said as much in my letter.

On the subject of my sister’s death, I found it impossible to write much.  The little I did say, however, was in full accordance with her own feelings, I felt persuaded, and I had no difficulty in believing she would sympathize in all I did express, and in much that I had not words to express.

On the subject of the necklace, I did find language to communicate a little, though it was done in the part of the letter where a woman is said to give her real thoughts,—­the postscript.  In answer to what Lucy had said on the subject of my own necklace, I wrote as follows, viz:—­“You speak of my reserving the more valuable pearls for one, who, at some future day, may become my wife.  I confess this was my own intention, originally; and very pleasant was it to me to fancy that one so dear would wear pearls that had been brought up out of the sea by my own hands.  But dearest Lucy, all these agreeable and delusive anticipations have vanished.  Depend on it, I shall never marry.  I know that declarations of this sort, in young men of three and twenty, like those of maidens of nineteen, excite a smile oftener