I said softly, Dear Miss Darnford, (for Mr B― and the nun were out of sight in a moment,) what is become of that nun?-Rather, whispered she, what is become of the Spaniard? A cardinal attacked me instantly in French; but I answered in English, not knowing what he said, Quakers are not fit company for redhats.

They are, said he, in the same language; for a Quaker and a Jesuit is the same thing.

Miss Darnford was addressed by the name of the sprightly widow. Another asked how long she intended to wear those weeds? And a footman, in a rich livery, answered for her eyes, through her mask, that it would not be a month. But I was startled, when a Presbyterian parson came up to me, and bid me look after my Musidorus-So that I doubted not by this, it must be somebody who knew my name to be Pamela; and I presently thought of one of my lawyers, whose characters I gave in a former letter.

Indeed, he needed not to bid me; for I was sorry, on more accounts than that of my timorousness, to have lost sight of him. Out upon these nasty masquerades! thought I; I can't abide them already!

An egregious beauish appearance came up to miss, and said, You hang out a very pretty sign, widow

Not, replied she, to invite such fops as you to my shop.

Any customer would be welcome, returned he, in my opinion.—I whisper this as a secret. And I whisper another, said she, but not whisperingly, that no place warrants ill-man

ners.

Are you angry, widow?

But she gave him a signal to follow her, seeming to be much taken with his person and air; for, though there were three other Spanish habits there, he was called "the stately Spaniard" by one, and " the handsome Spaniard" by another, in our hearing, as he passed with us to the dessert, where we drank each of us a glass of champaign, and ate a few sweetmeats, with a crowd about us; but we appeared not to know one another while several odd appearances, as one Indian prince, one Chinese mandarin, several dominos, of both sexes, a Dutch skipper, a Jewish rabbi, a Greek monk, a harlequin, a Turkish bashaw, and a Capuchin friar, glided by us, as we returned into company, signifying, that we were strangers to them, by squeaking out, I know you!-Which is half the wit of the place.

Mr B- had more attacks made upon him by ladies than we had by gentlemen; and his fine person, noble air, and a deportment so suited to his habit, (only in the encounter of the nun, when he had more of the French freedom, as I thought, than the Spanish gravity,) made him many admirers; and more, when the Spanish minister, who was there in a French dress, spoke to him in Spanish, and received a polite answer from him in the same; while there were several who personated foreign characters, and knew nothing of the language of the country whose habits they assumed.

There were divers antic figures, some with caps and bells, one dressed like a punch; several harlequins, and other ludicrous forms, that jumped and ran about like mad; and seemed as if they would have it thought that all their wit lay in their heels.

He turned to me-and I was afraid of some such hit as he gave me I hope, friend, thou art prepared with a father for the light within thee? This was his free word.

Is this wit? said I, turning to Miss Darnford. I have enough of this diversion, where nothing but coarse jests appear barefaced.

At last Mr B- accosted us, as if he had not known us. So lovely a widow, and so sweet a friend! no wonder you do not separate; for I see not in this various assembly a third person of your sex fit to join with you.

Not one, sir!-said I-Will not a penitent nun made a good third with a wonderful widow and a prim quaker?

Not for more than ten minutes at most. Instantly the nun, a fine person of a lady, with a noble air, though I did not like her, joined us, and spoke in Italian something very free, as it seemed by her manner, and Mr B- -'s smiling answer; but neither Miss Darnford nor I understood that language, and Mr Bwould not explain it to us.

other in a rustic one, with a garland of flowers round her head; were much taken notice of for their freedom, and having something to say to every body. They were as seldom separated as Miss Darnford and I, and were followed by a crowd wherever they went.

The party-coloured one came up to me,Friend, said she, there is something in thy person that attracts every one's notice; but if a sack had not been a profane thing, it would have become thee almost as well.

I thank thee, friend, said I, for thy counsel; but if thou hadst been pleased to look at home, thou wouldst not have taken so much pains to join such advice, and such an appearance, together, as thou makest!

This made every one who heard it laughOne said, The butterfly had met with her match.

She returned, with an affected laugh-Smartly said!-But art thou come hither, friend, to make thy light shine before men or women?

Verily, friend, neither, replied I; but out of mere curiosity, to look into the minds of both sexes; which I read in their dresses.

A general satire on the assemblée, by the mass! said a fat monk.

The nun whisked to us: We're all concerned in my friend's remark————

And no disgrace to a fair nun, returned I, if her behaviour answer her dress-Nor to a reverend friar, turning to the monk, if his mind be not a discredit to his appearance-Nor yet to a country girl, turning to the party-coloured lady's companion, if she has not weeds in her heart to disgrace the flowers on her head.

An odd figure, representing a merry-andrew, took my hand, and said, I had the most piquant wit he had met with that night: And, friend, said he, let us be better acquainted!

Forbear, said I, withdrawing my hand, not a companion for a jack-pudding neither!

A Roman senator just then accosted Miss Darnford; and Mr B seeing me so much engaged, "Twere hard, said he, if our nation, in spite of Cervantes, produced not one cavalier to protect a fair lady thus surrounded.

Though surrounded, not distressed, my good knight-errant, said the nun: The fair quaker will be too hard for half a dozen antagonists, and wants not your protection :-But your poor nun bespeaks it, whispered she, who has not a word to say for herself. Mr B answered her in Italian-(I wish I understood Italian!)-And she had recourse to her beads.

You can't imagine, madam, how this nun haunted him!-Indeed, you can't imagine it! I must needs say, I don't like these masquerades at all. Many ladies, on these occasions, are so very free, that the censorious will be apt to blame the whole sex for their conduct, and to say, their hearts are as faulty as those of the most culpable men, since they scruple not to shew as much, when they think they cannot be known by their faces. But it is my humble opinion, that could there be a standard fixed by which one could determine readily what is, and what is not wit, decency would not be so often wounded, by attempts to be witty, as it is. For here every one, who can give himself the liberty to say things that shock a modester person, not meeting with due rebuke, but, perhaps, a smile, (without considering whether it be of contempt or approbation,) mistakes courage for wit; and every thing sacred or civil becomes the subject of his frothy jest.

How else can one account for the liberties of expression and behaviour taken by some of those who personated bishops, cardinals, priests, nuns, &c. -For the freest things I heard said were from persons in those habits; who behaved with so much levity and indecorum, as if they were resolved, as much as in them lay, to throw those venerable characters into ridicule, for no other reason than because they are, by the generality of the world, deemed venerable: But if it was once determined that nothing should be called

true wit, as nothing certainly ought, but what will stand the test of examination, but what is consistent with decency and good manners, and what will make an innocent heart brilliant and cheerful, and give its sanction to the happy expression, by trying to keep up and return the ball in like virtuous and lively raillery, then we should have our public entertainments such as the most scrupulous might join to countenance and applaud.

But what a moralizer am I! will your ladyship say: Indeed I can't help it:-And especially on such a subject as a masquerade, which I dislike more than any thing I ever saw. I could say a great deal more on this occasion: but, upon my word, I am quite out of humour with it; for I liked my English Mr B better than my Spaniard; and the nun I approved not by any means; though there were some who observed that she was one of the gracefullest figures in the place. And, indeed, in spite of my own heart, I could not help thinking so too.

Your ladyship knows so well what masquerades are, that I may well be excused saying any thing further on a subject I am so little pleased with: For you only desire my notions of those diversions because I am a novice in them; and this, I doubt not, will doubly serve to answer that purpose.

I shall only therefore add, that after an hundred other impertinencies spoken to Miss Darnford and me, and retorted with spirit by her, and as well as I could myself, quite sick of the place, I feigned to be more indisposed than I was, and so got my beloved Spaniard to go off with us, and reached home by three in the morning. And so much for masquerades. I hope I shall never have occasion to mention them again to your ladyship. I am, my dearest madam,

Your ever obliged sister and servant,

LETTER LVII.

P. B

MRS B TO LADY DAVERS.

MY DEAREST LADY,

My mind is so wholly engrossed by thoughts of a very different nature from those which the diversions of the town and the theatres inspire, that I beg to be excused, if, for the present, I say nothing further of those lighter matters. But yet, since your ladyship does not disapprove of my remarks, I intend, if it please God to spare my life, to make a little book, which I will present to your ladyship, containing my poor observations on all the dramatic entertainments I have seen, and shall see, this winter; and, for this purpose, I have made brief notes in the margin of the printed plays I have bought, as I saw them, with a pencil; by referring to which, as helps to my memory, I shall be able to tell your

ladyship what my thoughts were at the time of seeing them, pretty nearly with the same advantage as if I had written them at my return from each.

I have obtained of Sir Simon, and Lady Darnford, the very great pleasure of their permission for miss to stay with me till it shall be seen how it will please God to deal with me; and I owe this favour partly to a kind letter, written in my behalf to Sir Simon, by Mr B-, and partly to the young lady's earnest request to her papa, to oblige me; Sir Simon having made some difficulty to comply, as Mr Murray and his bride have left them, saying, he could not live long, if he had not the company of his beloved daughter.

I cannot but say I have many more anxieties and apprehensions, than, perhaps, I ought to have, on the present occasion; but I was always a sad coward, and too thoughtful a good deal: But I have so much to lose; such a husband to part with, if I must part with him; such generous friends, and lovers, as I may say, of both sexes: and then the circumstance itself has so many terrors, to an apprehensive mind, attending it, that I am out of breath sometimes at the thoughts of it, and want to run away from my self, if I could.-But it cannot be: and when I charge my mind with the reflections which religion inspires, and ask myself who it was that gave me all these blessings, and who it is that has a right to recall them, if he pleases, and when, and in what way he pleases; and that, if I leave them not now, I must be separated from them another day; I endeavour to bring my mind to a resignation to the divine will.

But what shall I say, madam, when I find my frailty is so much increased, that I cannot, with the same intenseness of devotion that I used to be blest with, apply myself to the throne of grace, nor, of consequence, find my invocations answered by that delight, and inward satisfaction, with which I used to please myself when the present near prospect was more remote?

I hope I shall not be deserted in the hour of trial, and that this my weakness of mind will not be punished with a spiritual dereliction, for suffering myself to be too much attached to those worldly delights and pleasures which no mortal ever enjoyed in a more exalted degree than myself. And I beseech you, my dearest lady, let me be always remembered in your prayers-Only for a resignation to the divine will; a cheerful resignation, I presume not to prescribe to his gracious Providence; for if one has but that, one has every thing that one need to have. Yet, my dear lady, there is such a natural repugnance between life and death, that nature will shrink when one comes to the trial, let one have never so much fortitude at a distance. Yet, I hope, I may be forgiven; for now and then I comfort myself with the divine exemplar, who prayed, in bloody sweats, for the bitter cup to be removed; but gave us the example of resignation, that I am

wishing to be able to follow: However, not mine, but thy will be done!

Forgive me, my dearest lady, for being so deeply serious. I have just now been contending with a severe pang, that is, for the present, gone off: what effect its return may have, God only knows. And if this is the last line I shall ever write, it will be the more satisfactory to me, as (with my humble respects to my good Lord Davers, and my dear Countess, and praying for the continuance of all your healths and happiness, both here and hereafter) I am permitted to subscribe myself

Your ladyship's obliged sister,
And humble servant,
P. B-

LETTER LVIII.

LADY DAVERS TO MR B

MY DEAREST BROTHER, ALTHOUGH I believe it is needless to put a man of your generous spirit in mind of doing a worthy action; yet, as I do not know whether you have thought of what I am going to hint to you, I cannot forbear a line or two with regard to the good old couple in Kent.

I am sure, if, for our sins, God Almighty should take from us my incomparable sister, (forgive me, my dear brother, but to intimate what may be, although I hourly pray, as her trying minute approaches, that it will not,) you will, for her sake, take care that her honest parents have not the loss of your favour, to deepen the inconsolable one, they will have, in such a case, of the best of daughters.

I say, I am sure you will do as generously by them as ever: and I dare say your sweet Pamela doubts it not: yet as you know how sensible she is of every favour done them, it is the Countess's opinion and mine, and Lady Betty's too, that you give her this assurance in some legal way; for as she is naturally apprehensive, and thinks more of her present circumstances, than, for your sake, she chooses to express to you, it will be like a cordial to her dutiful and grateful heart; and I do not know if it will not contribute, more than any one thing, to make her go through her task with ease and safety.

I know how much your heart is wrapped up in the dear creature. And you are a worthy brother to let it be so!-You will excuse me therefore, I am sure, for this my officiousness.

I have no doubt but God will spare her to us, because, although we be not worthy of so much excellence, yet we now all unite so gratefully to thank him for such a worthy relation, that I hope we shall not be deprived of an example so necessary to us all.

I can have but one fear, and that is, that, young as she is, she seems ripened for glory :

she seems to have lived long enough for herself. But for you, and for us, that God will still spare her, shall be the hourly prayer of,

My dear worthy brother,
Your ever affectionate sister,
B. DAVERS.

Have you got her mother with you? I hope you have. God give you a son and heir, if it be his blessed will! But, however that be, preserve your PAMELA to you! for you never can have such another wife.

LETTER LIX.

MRS B TO MR B

MY EVER-DEAR, AND EVER-HONOURED
MR B

SINCE I know not how it may please God Almighty to dispose of me on the approaching occasion, I should think myself inexcusable, if I could not find one or two select hours to dedicate to you, out of the very many, in the writing way, in which your goodness has indulged me, because you saw I took delight in it.

But yet think not, O best beloved of my heart! that I have any boon to beg, any favour to ask, either for myself, or for my friends, or so much as the continuance of your favour to the one or the other. As to them, you have prevented and exceeded all my wishes: As to myself, if it please God to spare me, I know I shall always be rewarded beyond my desert, let my deservings be what they will. I have only, therefore, to acknowledge, with the deepest sense of your goodness to me, and with the most heart-affecting gratitude, that from the happy, the thrice happy hour, that you so generously made me yours, till this moment, you have not left me one thing on my own part to wish for, but the continuance and increase of your felicity, and that I might be worthier and worthier of the unexampled goodness, tenderness, and condescension, wherewith you have always treated me.

No, my dearest, my best beloved master, friend, husband, my first, my last, and only love! believe me, I have nothing to wish for but your honour and felicity, temporary and eternal; and I make no doubt that God, in his infinite goodness and mercy, will perfect his own good work, begun in your dear heart; and whatever may now happen, give us a happy meeting, never more to part from one another. For, although, as you were pleased to question t'other day, when you were resolving some of my doubts(and, oh! what a sweet expositor have you been to me upon all those occasions, on which my diffident mind led me to you for information

and direction !)—whether the happiness of the blessed was not too exalted a happiness to be affected with the poor ties of relationship and sense, which now delight and attach so much to them our narrow minds and conceptions; yet cannot I willingly give up the pleasing, the charming hope, that I shall one day rejoice, distinguishingly rejoice, in the society of my best beloved husband and friend, and in that of my dear parents: And I will keep and encourage this dear hope, so consolatory to me in the separation which dearest friends must experience, so long as it can stand me in any stead; and till I shall be all intellect, and above the soothing impressions which are now so agreeable to sense, and to conjugal and filial piety.

Let me then beg of you, my dearest protector and best friend, to pardon all my imperfections and defects; and if, ever since I have had the honour to be yours, I have in looks, or in word, or in deed, given you cause to wish me other than I was, that you will kindly put it to the score of natural infirmity (for, in thought or intention, I can truly boast, I have never wilfully erred.) Your tenderness for me, and your generous politeness to me, always gave me apprehension, that I was not what you wished me to be, because you would not find fault with me so often as I fear I deserved: And this makes me beg of you to do, as I hope God Almighty will, pardon all my involuntary errors and omissions.

You have enabled me, sir, to do all the good to my poor neighbours, and to distressed objects, which was in my own heart to do; and I hope I have made use of the power you have so generously intrusted me with, in a manner that may shew I had a regard to your honour, and to the exigency of the particular cases recommended to me, without extravagance or vanity. But yet, as it is necessary I should render some account of my stewardship, in relation to the large sums you have put into my hands for charitable uses, you will find, my beloved master and best friend, your poor steward's accounts of every thing, in the cabinet that was my honoured lady's, till your goodness made it mine, in a vellum book,* on the first leaf of which is written, title-pagewise, Humble RETURNS for DIVINE MERCIES; and you will see a balance struck, down to this very day, and the little surplus in the green purse upon the book. And if you will be pleased, sir, to perfect, by your generosity, the happiness of the cases I have marked with a star,

thus which are such as are not fully recovered, and will be so good as to keep up my little school, I dare ask no more; for, my dearest Mr B, if I should be called from your service to my new place, your next steward (and long, I hope, for your honourable family's sake,

you will not be without one,) may find out another and better method for your honour and her own, to dispense your bounty, than that I have taken.

The rich jewels and equipage with which your generous goodness adorned my unworthiness, will be found in the same cabinet, in the private drawer; and, if I may be pardoned for one extravagant wish, (your circumstances, dear sir, are very great! and your future lady will not wear any thing that was mine,) it is, that my dear Miss Darnford may be desired, as the effect of your own goodness and generous consideration for my memory, to wear the diamond necklace, which, I know, she admires, but is far from wishing for it, or expecting it, if the neck that it was given to adorn, and to make more worthy of you, should be laid low by the irresistible leveller.

In the lowest drawer on the left hand of the cabinet, you will find, sir, all my unfinished scribble; and, amongst the rest, a little parcel, indorsed," Mr H. and P. Barlow." The title will surprise you; but as I know not what may happen to make doubts and puzzles in the affair mentioned in those papers, when I cannot explain them, I thought it was best to give a brief history of it in writing, with his letter to me on the occasion; and I humbly beg the whole may be kept within your own breast, unless that vile affair, which has much disturbed me, should be revived; although I have no reason to apprehend it will, because the poor girl, I hope, is sincerely penitent, and Mr H-himself seems in another way of thinking as to her. Will you be pleased, sir, to bestow on my dearest Miss Goodwin, as a remembrance of her aunt's true love, the diamond solitaire, and the second pair of ear-rings? Perhaps my dearest Lady Davers will not disdain to wear, as a present from her beloved brother, my best diamond ring. And if my most beloved, and most valued ring of all, the dear first pledge of my happiness, were, for the first time since I was honoured with it, by your own putting it on, taken from my finger and enamelled, it would be a mournful, yet a pleasing token for my poor mother, and a sweet memento of your bounty to them, and of your inexpressible goodness and favour to her poor daughter!-But how I presume! And yet just now I said, I had nothing to ask!

Now I am, unawares to myself, upon the subject of petitioning, how it would please me, could I know it, if the dear child I have just named were given to the care and example of my excellent Miss Darnford, if she would be pleased to accept of the trust; and if Lady Davers has no objection, and would not choose to take the pretty soul under her own wing.

I had once great pleasure in the hope of having this dear child committed to my care. But what pleasures, what happiness, have I not had crowded into this last, and this first happy, thrice happy year-even more than most of my sex have had to boast of, and those not unhappy neither, in a long, long life! Every day has brought with it some new felicity, some new happiness, as unlooked for as undeserved; for, oh! best beloved of my heart! how have you always met me in your comings-in, left me at your goings-out, with smiles and complacency! the latter only distinguished from the former by a kind regret, as the other was from that, by a joy next to transport, when all your dear generous heart appeared in your noble countenance, and set my faithful one into responsive flutters, to meet and receive it with all the grateful emotions that the chastest conjugal flame could inspire!

But I must not dwell upon these charming, charming reflections! My present doubts will not permit me to indulge them! For, if I were, how would my desires be rivetted to this earth! With what regard should I transfer my thoughts to a still more important and more necessary subject! And with what ingratitude look up to a diviner, and still more noble master, who ought to be the ultimate of all our wishes and desires! And who has given me you, my dearest Mr B, and with you, all that this world can make desirable! And has therefore a right to take away what he has given! And if I now die, what a glory will it be to me, to be permit ted to discharge part of my obligations to the worthiest of gentlemen, by laying down my life in the service of his honourable family!

But let me say one word for my dear worthy Mrs Jervis. Her care and fidelity will be very necessary for your affairs, dear sir, while you remain single, which I hope will not be long. But whenever, sir, you make a second choice, be pleased to allow her such an annuity as may make her independent, and pass away the remainder of her life with ease and comfort; and this I the rather presume to request, as my late honoured lady* once intimated the same thing to you. If I were to name what that may be, it would not be with the thought of heightening, but of limiting rather, the natural bounty of your heart; and fifty pounds a-year would be a rich provision, in her opinion, and will entail upon you, dear sir, the blessings of one of the faithfullest and worthiest hearts in the kingdom.

Nor will Christian charity permit me to forget the once wicked, but now penitent Jewkes. I understand, by Miss Darnford, that she begs for nothing but to have the pleasure of dying in your service, and of having, by that means, an