All the world has something to comfort them, but your poor friend.—­Every thing wears the face of joy, till I turn my eyes inwards:—­there it is I behold the opposite;—­there it is where Grief has fix’d her abode.—­Does the fiend ever sleep?  Will she be composed by ushering in the happy prospects of others?—­Yes, I will feel, joy.—­Joy did I say?  Joy I cannot feel.—­Satisfaction then?—­Satisfaction likewise is forbid to enter.—­What then will possess my mind; on recollecting peace is restor’d, where gratitude calls for such large returns?—­I’ll pray for them;—­I’ll pray for a continuance of their felicity.—­I’ll pray, if they have future ills in store, they may light on the head of Darcey.—­Yes, he can bear more yet:—­let the load be ever so heavy, he will stoop to take up the burthen of his friends;—­such friends as Sir James and Lady Powis have been to

DARCEY.

LETTER XIX.

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

London.

Well, give me the first salute of your fair bride;—­and for your bride I’ll ensure Miss Warley.—­Why there is not a symptom but is in your favour.—­She is nettled; can’t you perceive it?—­Once a studied disregard takes place, we are safe:—­nothing will hurt you now, my Lord.—­

You have been stuttering falsehoods.—­From what I can gather, you have been hushing the Baronet at the expence of your own and Miss Warley’s quiet.—­If you have, never mind it; things may not be the worse.—­Come away, I advise you; set out immediately.—­See how she looks at parting.—­But don’t distress her;—­I charge you not to distress her.—­Should you play back her own cards, I will not answer for the pride of the sex.—­

Sir James’s consent once gained, and she rejects your proposals, lay all your letters to me on the subject before her.—­I have them by me.—­These cannot fail of clearing every doubt; she will be convinced then how sincerely you have loved her.—­

You surprise me concerning Mr. Powis:—­I thought he was settled in his government for life;—­or rather, for the life of his father.—­However, I am convinced his coming over will be no bad thing for you;—­he has suffered too much from avarice, not to assist another so hardly beset.—­

Was not his settling abroad an odd affair!—­If he determined to remain single till he had an opportunity of pleasing himself, why did he leave England?—­The mortification could not be great to have his overtures refused, where they were made with such indifference.—­

As he has lived so many years a batchelor, I suppose there will be now an end to that great family.—­

What a leveller is avarice!  How does it pull down by attempting to raise?  How miserable, as Seneca says, in the desire?—­how miserable in attaining our ends?—­The same great man alledges, that as long as we are solicitous for the increase of wealth, we lose the true use of it; and spend our time in putting out, calling in, and passing our accounts, without any substantial benefit, either to the world, or to ourselves.—­