fir-grove.

Last night saw the remains of my much-revered and much-lamented father deposited in the tomb. Oh, my friend! what/ were my sensations when I took a last view of that countenance, on which I have so oft en gazed with delight! When I take a retrospect of his conduct, and reflect on his tender care – his ardent anxiety for my happiness, my heart is weighed down with sorrow; and the painful consideration, that I can no more behold him – no more hear his voice, takes place of every other idea. The loss of fortune, – the loss of her in whom I had centered all my hopes of earthly felicity, seem nothing in comparison to the loss of such a parent, who, in the tenderness of friendship, sunk parental authority. – But I must forbear dwelling upon the melancholy subject; your own sorrows are already too heavy. Augustus and I accept your invitation, and mean to be at the Hall the beginning of next week. Lord Lucan left us this morning. – He kindly insists on my accompanying him and his son on their intended tour, as was first proposed; but, in my opinion, it would be acting wrong: I should lose no time in determining what plan to pursue for a maintenance, nor in pursuing that plan as soon as formed. I shall,/ therefore, endeavor to decline the friendly offer. I would have done so at first, but his lordship would not suffer me to say a word in opposition. He defers setting out, upon my account; as he tells me it is highly necessary I should see Mr. Bertills. – I must, therefore, wait his arrival. Lord Lucan has attempted to flatter me with hopes of that gentleman providing handsomely for me; but I confess that not all which he or you can say will inspire me with any; and I fancy, Edward, you will be constrained to alter your sentiments, when you have read the letter I have just received from Mr. Bertills.