convinced that, without his express permission, not even a hair of our head can fall to the ground.

'Oh! my sister, my heart yearns when I picture to myself the affliction, indescribable affliction, which this melancholy intelligence must have caused in the mind of my much-honoured mother. But let it be your peculiar endeavour to watch over her grief and mitigate her pain. I hope, indeed, this little advice from me will be unnecessary; for I know the holy precepts of that inspired religion, which, thank Heaven! have been implanted in the bosoms of us all, will point out to you, and all my dear relatives, that fortitude and resignation which are required of us in the conflicts of human nature, and prevent you from arraigning the wisdom of that Omniscient Providence, of which we ought all to have the fullest sense.

'I have had all my dear Nessy's letters; the one of the 17th this morning; but, alas ! what do they now avail? Their contents only serve to prove the instability of all human hopes and expectations. But, my dear sister, I begin to feel the pangs which you must suffer from the perusal of this melancholy paper, and will therefore desist, for I know it is more than your nature can support. The contrast between last week's correspondence and this is great indeed; but why? We had only hope then; and have we not the same now? Certainly. Endeavour then, my love, to cherish that hope, and with faith

rely upon the mercy of that God who does as to him seems best and most conducive to the general good of his miserable creatures.

'Bear it, then, with Christian patience, and instil into the mind of my dear and now sorrowful sisters, by your advice, the same disposition; and, for Heaven's sake, let not despair touch the soul of my dear mother-for then all would be over. Let James also employ all his efforts to cheer her spirits under her weight of woe. I will write no more. Adieu, my dearest love! Write but little to me, and pray for your ever affectionate but ill-fated brother.

P.S. I am in perfect spirits, therefore let not your sympathizing feelings for my sufferings hurt your own precious health, which is dearer to me than life itself. Adieu!'

This beautiful spirit of resignation and piety did. not shine forth merely in his letters. The friends who visited him, and among them especially Lieut. Spranger and Mr. Delafons, admired and testified the manly and unshaken fortitude which characterized all his behaviour at this melancholy time. The following letter to his mother is perhaps the most touching:

'I would not now write to my dear and muchhonoured mother, were I not apprehensive that, from my silence, she might entertain a supposition

that I am unable to do that duty, by being too much oppressed with the weight of my own misfortunes. But, my dear mother, harbour not such a thought! Think not that I am in the smallest degree uneasy in my mind with respect to my own situation. The only anxiety I can at any time feel is, when I picture to myself the truly distressed state into which the relation of the past unhappy conclusion must have thrown you and all my beloved sisters. But let pious resignation to the Divine Will eradicate all despairing ideas, or any thoughts that may even look like an appearance of arraigning the all-wise decrees of unerring Providence. For that God who gave me the life I now enjoy, will, I am conscious, if he sees it best for my future interest, permit me to enjoy it still, in spite of all that man can say or do. But if he judges it proper for me to lay it down, I think I can, with the greatest resignation, and a full hope of his mercy, comply most cheerfully with his demand.-My only desire is to ease my dear mother's mind, which I hope will be the case, when I tell her from my soul I am happy, and may yet be more so. But let us not entertain too sanguine hopes, lest we should again be disappointed.

Be assured, I shall ever act as worthy of the family from which I am sprung, and the name of, dear mother,

• Your dutiful and resigned son,
· P. H.

Just before the receipt of this letter, a short one came from their kind friend, Mr. Graham, to say that necessary business obliged him to leave Portsmouth for London; and Mrs. Heywood's friends, for the situation of her mind rendered her almost incapable of thinking, judged it improper to hesitate a moment longer in accepting Mr. Graham's invitation, made in a former letter, that one or both of her daughters should pay him a visit in town. It was determined that Miss N. Heywood should go to England without delay. On Monday the 1st of October, therefore, while at breakfast, she was informed that a small fishing-boat would sail for Liverpool in half an hour; and as her impatience to be near her unfortunate brother could only be equalled by her distress on his account, she seized the opportunity (with a contrary wind and very bad weather) of flying to him. 'We did not arrive here,' she says in a letter to her friends, from Liverpool on the 3rd of October, till noon this day, after a most tempestuous passage of forty-nine hours, with the wind directly contrary the whole way. Yet, notwithstanding that vexatious circumstance, hard boards, (for I could not prevail upon myself to enter one of their dirty close beds,) and aching bones, together with passing two nights almost without closing my eyes, let me but be blessed with the cheering influence of hope, and I have a spirit to undertake any thing. At the mouth of the

river this morning we met a small, open, fishing-boat, into which I got, as I was told I should by that means arrive two hours sooner than I should otherwise have done, and as the sea was very high, every wave washed over me.

Mr. S. (whom I passed at sea) will inform you that the pardon went down to the King at Weymouth some days ago. May we not then encourage a hope that I shall find all our miseries at an end? Oh! dare I flatter myself it is so, and shall we yet be happy? The thought is ecstacy. I am just going to write to the worthy Mr. Graham; you know I told you I should do it at sea; but I might as well have attempted to build a temple there. Oh! 'twas well my mind was bent on something else. When I was tempted to repine at the winds, I remembered that they were favourable for Henry.* I reflected on Peter's sufferings, and was content.'

On the same night this ardent young lady left Liverpool in the mail, and on the 5th writes from Mr. Graham's residence to assure her mother of her safety, her kind reception, and to repeat to her mother Mr. Graham's account of Peter' that he conducts himself in such a manner as will reflect the highest and most lasting honour on himself, and produces the strongest sensations of pleasure and satisfaction to his friends.'

* A brother who had just sailed on his first voyage from Liverpool.