Mrs. Lovick told me, that after I went away on Saturday, she actually parted with one of her best suits of clothes to a gentlewoman who is her [Mrs. Lovick’s] benefactress, and who bought them for a niece who is very speedily to be married, and whom she fits out and portions as her intended heiress.  The lady was so jealous that the money might come from you or me, that she would see the purchaser:  who owned to Mrs. Lovick that she bought them for half their worth:  but yet, though her conscience permitted her to take them at such an under rate, the widow says her friend admired the lady, as one of the loveliest of her sex:  and having been let into a little of her story, could not help shedding tears at taking away her purchase.

She may be a good sort of woman:  Mrs. Lovick says she is:  but self is an odious devil, that reconciles to some people the most cruel and dishonest actions.  But, nevertheless, it is my opinion, that those who can suffer themselves to take advantage of the necessities of their fellow-creatures, in order to buy any thing at a less rate than would allow them the legal interest of their purchase-money (supposing they purchase before they want) are no better than robbers for the difference.  —­To plunder a wreck, and to rob at a fire, are indeed higher degrees of wickedness:  but do not those, as well as these, heighten the distresses of the distressed, and heap misery on the miserable, whom it is the duty of every one to relieve?

About three o’clock I went again to Smith’s.  The lady was writing when I sent up my name; but admitted of my visit.  I saw a miserable alteration in her countenance for the worse; and Mrs. Lovick respectfully accusing her of too great assiduity to her pen, early and late, and of her abstinence the day before, I took notice of the alteration; and told her, that her physician had greater hopes of her than she had of herself; and I would take the liberty to say, that despair of recovery allowed not room for cure.

She said she neither despaired nor hoped.  Then stepping to the glass, with great composure, My countenance, said she, is indeed an honest picture of my heart.  But the mind will run away with the body at any time.

Writing is all my diversion, continued she:  and I have subjects that cannot be dispensed with.  As to my hours, I have always been an early riser:  but now rest is less in my power than ever.  Sleep has a long time ago quarreled with me, and will not be friends, although I have made the first advances.  What will be, must.

She then stept to her closet, and brought me a parcel sealed up with three seals:  Be so kind, said she, as to give this to your friend.  A very grateful present it ought to be to him:  for, Sir, this packet contains such letters of his to me, as, compared with his actions, would reflect dishonour upon all his sex, were they to fall into other hands.

As to my letters to him, they are not many.  He may either keep or destroy them, as he pleases.