***

And how, my dearest friend, after this rhapsody, which on re-perusal, I would not let go, but to show you what a distracted mind dictates to my trembling pen!  How do you?  You have been very ill, it seems.  That you are recovered, my dear, let me hear.  That your mother is well, pray let me hear, and hear quickly.  This comfort surely is owing to me; for if life is no worse than chequer-work, I must now have a little white to come, having seen nothing but black, all unchequered dismal black, for a great, great while.

***

And what is all this wild incoherence for?  It is only to beg to know how you have been, and how you do now, by a line directed for Mrs. Rachel Clark, at Mr. Smith’s, a glove-shop, in King-street, Covent-garden; which (although my abode is secret to every body else) will reach the hands of —­your unhappy—­but that’s not enough——­

Your miserable
Clarissa Harlowe.

LETTER LI

Mrs. Howe, to miss Clarissa Harlowe [SUPERSCRIBED as directed in the preceding.] Friday, June 30.

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE,

You will wonder to receive a letter from me.  I am sorry for the great distress you seem to be in.  Such a hopeful young lady as you were!  But see what comes of disobedience to parents!

For my part; although I pity you, yet I much more pity your poor father and mother.  Such education as they gave you! such improvement as you made! and such delight as they took in you!—­And all come to this!—­

But pray, Miss, don’t make my Nancy guilt of your fault; which is that of disobedience.  I have charged her over and over not to correspond with one who had made such a giddy step.  It is not to her reputation, I am sure.  You know that I so charged her; yet you go on corresponding together, to my very great vexation; for she has been very perverse upon it more than once.  Evil communication, Miss—­you know the rest.

Here, people cannot be unhappy by themselves, but they must invoke their friends and acquaintance whose discretion has kept them clear of their errors, into near as much unhappiness as if they had run into the like of their own heads!  Thus my poor daughter is always in tears and grief.  And she has postponed her own felicity, truly, because you are unhappy.

If people, who seek their own ruin, could be the only sufferers by their headstrong doings, it were something:  But, O Miss, Miss! what have you to answer for, who have made as many grieved hearts as have known you!  The whole sex is indeed wounded by you:  For, who but Miss Clarissa Harlowe was proposed by every father and mother for a pattern for their daughters?