But your SMILES, madam, are more bewitchingly free and attractive; for my girl is a little too grave.

As to TEETH, charming as your ladyship's are, I think hers not a whit inferior in whiteness and regularity.

Her CHIN is a sweet addition to her face, by that easy soft half round, that looks as if nature had begun at top, and gave that as her finishing stroke to the rest: while, my dear lady, yours is a little, little too strong featured; but such as so infinitely becomes your face, that my girl's chin would not have half the beauty upon your face.

Her EARS, my lady, are just such as your own: Must they not be beautiful then? Her NECK, though it must not presume-let me see, madam, approaching her (Keep your distance, sir! I was forced to do so)-though it must not pretend to excel yours for whitness, yet, except yours, did I never see any neck so beautiful. But your ladyship, it must be confessed, being a little plumper in person, has the advantage here.

*

I had a smart rap on my knuckles with her fan. And she would hear no more. But was resolved she would see you, she said. And, my dear, I am the more particular in repeating this comparative description of the two charmingest persons in England, because you will see the reason, (and that it was not to insult you, as you rightly judged in your letter to my sister, but to your advantage,) that I gave way to the importunity of the Countess to see you; for I little thought you were so well ac quainted with our intimacy; much less, that we had been made more intimate, to you, than ever, in truth, we were, or perhaps might have been. And when I asked you, why you were not more richly dressed, and had not your jewels, you may believe, (as I had no reason to doubt that the Countess would come in all her ornaments,) I was not willing my girl should give way to the noble emulatress in any thing; being concerned for your own honour, as well as mine, in the superiority of beauty I had so justly given you. Well, sir, to be sure this was kind, very kind; and little was I disposed (knowing what I knew) to pass so favourable a construction on your generosity to me.

My question to her ladyship, continued Mr B, at going away, Whether you were not the charmingest girl in the word? which, seeing you together at one view, rich as she was dressed, and plain as you, gave me the double pleasure (a pleasure, she said afterwards, 1 exulted in) of deciding in your favour; my readiness to explain to you what we both said, and her not ungenerous answer, I thought would have entitled me to a better return than a flood

See

of tears; which confirmed me, that your past uneasiness was a jealousy I was not willing to allow in you; though I should have been more indulgent to it, had I known the grounds you thought you had for it; and this was the reason of my leaving you so abruptly as I did.

Here, madam, Mr B broke off, referring to another time the conclusion of his narrative. And, having written a great deal, I will here also close this letter, (though possibly I may not send it till I send the conclusion of this story in my next,) with the assurance that I am

Your ladyship's obliged sister and servant,
P. B.

LETTER LXXVIII.

MRS B TO LADY DAVERS.
MY DEAR LADY,

Now I will proceed with my former subject; and with the greater pleasure, as what follows makes still more in favour of the Countess's character than what went before, although that set it in a better light than it had once appeared to me in. I began as follows:

Will you be pleased, sir, to favour me with the continuation of our last subject?—I will, my dear. -You left off, sir, with acquitting me (as knowing what I knew) for breaking out into that flood of tears, which occasioned your abrupt departure. But, dear sir, will you be pleased to satisfy ine about that affecting information of your intention, and my lady's, to live at Tunbridge together?

'Tis absolutely malice and falsehood. Our intimacy had not proceeded so far; and, thoughtless as my sister's letters suppose the lady, she would have spurned at such a proposal, I dare say.

Well; but then, sir, as to the expression to her uncle, that she had rather have been a certain gentleman's second wife?

I believe she might, in a passion, say somethink like it to him: He had been teazing her (from the time that I held an argument in favour of that foolish topic polygamy, in his company, and his niece's, and in that of her sister and the Viscount) with cautions against conversing with a man, who, having, as he was pleased to say behind my back, married beneath him, wanted to engage the affections of a lady of birth, in order to recover, by doubling the fault upon her, the reputation he had lost.

She despised his insinuation enough to answer him, that she thought my arguments in behalf of polygamy were convincing. This set him a raving, and he threw some coarse reflections upon her, which could not be repeated, if one may guess at them, by her being unable to tell me

what they were; and then to vex him more, and to revenge herself, she said something like what was reported: And this was handle enough for her uncle, who took care to propagate it with an indiscretion peculiar to himself; for I heard of it in three different companies, before I knew any thing of it from herself; and when I did, it was so repeated, as you, my dear, would hardly have censured her for it, the provocation considered.

Well; but then, dear sir, there is nothing at all amiss, at this rate, in the correspondence between my lady and you?

Not on her side, I dare say, if her ladyship can be excused to punctilio, and for having a greater esteem for a married man than he can deserve, or than may be strictly defended to a person of your purity and niceness.

Well, sir, this is very noble in you. I love to hear the gentlemen generous in points where the honour of our sex is concerned. But, pray, sir, what then was there on your side, in that matter, that made you give me so patient and so kind a bearing?

Now, my dear, you come to the point: At first it was, as I have said before, nothing in me but vanity, pride, and love of intrigue, to try my strength, where I had met with some encourage ment, as I thought, at the masquerade; where the lady went farther too than she would have done, had she not thought I was a single man. For, by what I have told you, Pamela, you will observe, that she endeavoured to satisfy herself on that head, as soon as she well could. Mrs Nelthorpe acquainted me afterwards, when we were better known to each other, that her lady was so partial in my favour, (Who can always govern their fancies, my dear?) as to think, so early as at the masquerade, that, if every thing answered appearances, and that I were a single man, she, who has a noble and independent fortune, might possibly be induced to make me happy in her choice.

Supposing then that I was unmarried, she left a signal for me in her handkerchief. I visited her; had the honour, after the customary first shyness, of being well received by her; and continued my visits, till, perhaps, she would have been glad I had not been married: But, when she found I was, she avoided me, as I have told you, till the accident I mentioned threw us again upon each other; which renewed our intimacy upon terms, which you would think too inconsiderate on one side, and too designing on the other.

For myself, what can I say? Only that you gave me great disgusts, (without cause, as I thought,) by your unwonted reception of me: Ever in tears and grief; the Countess ever cheerful and lively: and, apprehending that your temper was entirely changing, I believed I had no bad excuse to endeavour to make myself easy and cheerful abroad, since my home became more

irksome to me than ever I believed it could be. Then, as we naturally love those who love us, I had vanity, and some reason for my vanity, (indeed all vain men believe they have,) to think the Countess had more than an indifference for me. She was so exasperated by the wrong methods taken with an independent lady of her generous spirit, to break off the acquaintance with me, that, in revenge, she denied me less than ever opportunities of her company. The pleasure we took in each other's conversation was reciprocal. The world's reports had united us in one common cause; and you, as I said, had made home less delightful to me than it used to be: What might not then have been apprehended from so many circumstances concurring with the lady's beauty and my frailty!

I waited on her to Tunbridge. She took a house there. Where people's tongues will take so much liberty, when they have no foundation for it at all, and where the utmost circumspection is used, what will they not say where so little of the latter is observed? No wonder then that terms were said to be agreed upon between From her uncle's story of polygamy, proposed by me, and seemingly agreed to by her, no wonder that all your Thomasine Fuller's information was surmised.

us.

And thus stood the matter, when I was determined to give your cause for uneasiness a hearing, and to take my measures according to what should result from that hearing.

From this account, dear sir, said I, it will not be so difficult, as I was afraid it would be, to end this affair, even to her ladyship's satisfaction.

I hope not, my dear.

But if now, sir, the Countess should still be desirous not to break with you; from so charming a lady, who knows what may happen?

Very true, Pamela: But, to make you still easier, I will tell you, that her ladyship has a first cousin married to a person going with a public character to several of the Italian courts; and, had it not been for my persuasions, she would have accepted of their earnest invitations, and passed a year or two in Italy, where she once resided for three years together, which makes her so perfect a mistress of Italian.

Now I will let her know, additionally to what I have written to her, the uneasiness I have given you, and, so far as it is proper, what is come to your ears, and your generous account of her, and the charms of her person, of which she will not be a little proud; for she has really noble and generous sentiments, and thinks well (though her sister, in pleasantry, will have it, a little enviously) of you: And when I shall endeavour to persuade her to go, for the sake of her own character, to a place and country of which she was always fond, I am apt to think she will come in to it; for she has a greater opinion of my judgment than it deserves: And I

know a young lord, who may be easily persuaded to follow her thither, and bring her back his lady, if he can obtain her consent: And what say you, Pamela, to this?

O, sir! I believe I shall begin to love the lady dearly, and that is what I never thought I should. I hope this will be brought about.

But I see, give me leave to say, sir, how dangerously you might have gone on, both you and the lady, under the notion of this Platonic love, till two precious souls might have been lost! And this shews one, as well in spirituals as temporals, from what slight beginnings the greatest mischiefs sometimes spring; and how easily at first a breach may be stopped, that, when neglected, the waves of passion will widen till they bear down all before them!

Your observation, my dear, is just, replied Mr B- -; and though I am confident the lady was more in earnest than myself in the notion of Platonic love, yet am I convinced, and always was, that Platonic love is Platonic nonsense: 'Tis the fly buzzing about the blaze, till its wings are scorched: Or, to speak still stronger, it is a bait of the devil to catch the unexperienced and thoughtless: Nor ought such notions to be pretended to till the parties are five or ten years on the other side of their grand climacteric for age, old age, and nothing else, must establish the barriers to Platonic love. But, continued he, this was my comparative consolation, though a very bad one, that, had I swerved, I should not have given the only instance where persons, more scrupulous than I pretend to be, have begun friendships even with spiritual views, and ended them as grossly as I could have done, were the lady to have been as frail as her tempter.

Here, madam, Mr B― finished his narrative. He is now set out for Tunbridge with all my papers. I have no doubt in his honour and kind assurances, and hope my next will be a joyful letter; and that I shall inform you in it, that the affair, which went so near my heart, is absolutely concluded to my satisfaction, to Mr B's, and to the Countess's; for if it be so to all three, my happiness, I doubt not, will be founded on a permanent basis. Meantime I am, my dear good lady,

Your most affectionate

And obliged sister and servant,

P. B

LETTER LXXIX.

MRS B- TO LADY DAVERS.

A NEW misfortune, my dear lady! But this is of God Almighty's sending, so must bear it patiently. My dear baby is taken with the small-pox! To how many troubles are the happiest of us subjected in this life! One need not

multiply them by one's own wilful mismanagements! I am able to mind nothing else!

I had so much joy (as I told your ladyship in the beginning of my last letter but one) to see, on our arrival at the farm-house, my dearest Mr B, my beloved baby, and my good father and mother, all upon one happy spot together, that I fear I was too proud-yet I was truly thankful! I am sure I was! But I had, notwithstanding, too much pride, and too much pleasure, on this happy occasion.

I told your ladyship, in my last, that your dear brother set out on Tuesday morning for Tunbridge, with my papers, and I was longing to know the result, hoping that everything would be concluded to the satisfaction of all three; for, thought I, if this be so, my happiness must be permanent. But, alas! alas! there is nothing permanent in this life. I feel it by experience now! I knew it before by theory! But that was not so near and so interesting by half!

For, in the midst of all my pleasures and hopes; in the midst of my dear parents' joy and congratulations on our arrival, and on what had passed so happily since we were last here together, (in the birth of the dear child, and my safety, for which they had been so apprehensive,) the poor baby was taken ill. It was on that very Tuesday afternoon his papa set out for Tunbridge, but we knew not it would be the small-pox till Thursday. O, madam! how are all the pleasures I had formed to myself sickened now upon me! for my Billy is very bad.

They talk of a kind sort; but alas! they talk at random; for they come not out at all! How then can they say they are kind? I fear the nurse's constitution is too hale and too rich for the dear baby! Had I been permitted-but, hush! all my repining ifs !-Except one if and that is-If it be got happily over, it will be best he had it so young, and while at the breast!

Oh! madam, madam! The small appearance that there was, is gone in again; and my child, my dear baby, will die! The doctors seem to think so.

They want to send for Mr B, to keep me from him!-But I forbid it !-For what signifies life, or any thing, if I cannot see my baby, while he is so dangerously ill!

My father and mother are, for the first time, quite cruel to me; they have forbid me, and I never was so desirous of disobeying them before, to attend the darling of my heart: And why?For fear of this poor face!-For fear I should get it myself!-But I am living low, very low, and have taken proper precautions by bleeding, and the like, to lessen the distemper's fury, if I should have it; and the rest I leave to Providence. And if Mr B's value is confined so much to this poor transitory sightliness, he must

not break with his Countess, I think; and if I am ever so deformed in person, my poor intellects, I hope, will not be impaired, and I shall, if God spare my Billy, be useful in his first education, and be helpful to dear Miss Goodwin-or to any babies-with all my heart-he may make me an humble nurse too!-How peevish, sinfully so, I doubt, does this accident, and their affectionate contradiction, make one! I have this moment received the following from Mr B- -:

"MY DEAREST LOVE,

"MAIDSTONE.

"I AM greatly touched with the dear boy's malady, of which I have this moment heard. I desire you instantly to come to me hither, in the chariot, with the bearer, Colbrand. I know what your grief must be; but as you can do the child no good, I beg you'll oblige me. Every thing is in a happy train; but I can think of nobody but you, and (for your sake principally, but not a little for my own) my boy. I will set out to meet you; for I choose not to come myself, lest you should endeavour to persuade me to permit your tarrying about him; and I should be sorry to deny you any thing. I have taken here handsome apartments for you, till the event, which I pray God may be happy, shall better determine me what to do. I will be ever

"Your affectionate and faithful."

Maidstone, indeed, is not so very far off, but one may hear every day once or twice, by a man and horse; so I will go, to shew my obedience, since Mr B is so intent upon it. But I cannot live, if I am not permitted to come back. Oh! let me be enabled, gracious Father! to close this letter more happily than I have begun it!

I have been so dreadfully uneasy at Maidstone, that Mr B has been so good as to return with me hither; and I find my baby's case not yet quite desperate. I am easier now I see him, in presence of his beloved papa, who lets me have all my way, and approves of my preparative method for myself; and he tells me, that, since I will have it so, he will indulge me in my attendance on the child, and endeavour to imitate my reliance on God-that is his kind expression--and leave the issue to him. And on my telling him, that I feared nothing in the distemper, but the loss of his love, he said, in presence of the doctors, and my father and mother, pressing my hand to his lips, My dearest life! make yourself easy under this affliction, and apprehend nothing for yourself. I love you more for your mind than for your face. That

and your person will be the same; and were that sweet face to be covered with seams and scars, I will value you the more for the misfortune: And glad I am, that I had your picture so well drawn in town, to satisfy those who have heard of your loveliness, what you were, and hitherto are. For myself, my admiration lies deeper; and, drawing me to the other end of the room, whisperingly he said, The last uneasiness between us, I now begin to think, was necessary, because it has turned all my delight in you, more than ever, to the perfections of your mind; and so God preserves to ine the life of my Pamela, I care not, for my own part, what ravages the distemper makes here; and tapped my cheek.

How generous, how noble, how comforting was this!-I will make this use of it; I will now be resigned more and more to this dispensation, and prepare myself for the worst; for it is the dispensation of that God, who gave me my baby, and all I have!

When I retired, the reflections which I made, on supposing the worst, gave birth to the following serious lines, (for I cannot live without a pen in my hand,) written, as by a third person, suppose a good minister. Your ladyship will be pleased to give them your favourable allow

ances:

Tell me, fond, weeping parent, why

Thou fear'st so much thy child should die?
'Tis true, though human frailty may,
Yet reason can't, have much to say.
What is it thou thyself hast found
In this dull, heavy, tiresome round
Of life-to make thee wish thy son
Should through the like dark mazes run?

Suppose the worst!-"Twill end thy fears,
And free thee from a world of cares.
For, oh! what anxious thoughts arise
From hopefull'st youths, to damp our joys!
Who, from the morning's brightest ray,
Can promise what will be the day?

When I went from my apartment, to go to my child, my dear Mr B- met me at the nursery-door, and led me back again.-You must not go in again, my dearest. They have just been giving the child other things to try to drive out the malady; and some pustules seem to promise on his breast.-I made no doubt my baby was then in extremity; and I would have given the world to have shed a few tears, but I could not.

With the most soothing goodness he led me to my desk, and withdrew to attend the dear baby himself;-to see his last gaspings, poor little lamb, I make no doubt!

This suspense, and my own strange hardness of heart, that would not give up one tear, (for the passage from that to my eyes seemed quite

choked up, which used to be so open and ready on other occasions, affecting ones too,) produced these lines:

Why does my full-swoln heart deny
The tear, relief-ful, to my eye?
If all my joys are pass'd away,
And thou, dear boy, to parent clay
Art hasting, the last debt to pay;
Resign me to thy will, my God!
Let me, with patience, bear this rod.
However heavy be the stroke,

If thou wilt not his doom revoke,
Let me all sinful anguish shun,

And say, resign'd, "Thy will be done!"

Two days have passed, dreadful days of suspense! And now, blessed be God! who has given me hope that our prayers are heard, the pustules come kindly out, very thick in his breast, and on his face; but of a good sort, they tell me. They won't let me see him; indeed they won't! What cruel kindness is this! One must believe all they tell one!

But, my dear lady, my spirits are so weak; I have such a violent headach, and have such a strange shivering disorder all running down my back, and I was so hot just now, and am so cold at this present-Aguishly inclined-I don't know how that I must leave off, the post going away, with the assurance that I am, and will be to the last hour of my life,

Your ladyship's grateful

And obliged sister and servant,

charming face will not receive any disfigurement by this cruel enemy to beauty, I am sure you will congratulate me upon a felicity so desirable: but, were it to be otherwise, if I were capable of slighting a person, whose principal beauties are much deeper than the skin, I should deserve to be thought the most unworthy and superficial of husbands.

Whatever your notions have been, my everready censuring Lady Davers, of your brother, on a certain affair, I do assure you, that I never did, and never can, love any woman as I love my Pamela.

It is indeed impossible I can ever love her better than I do ; and her outward beauties are far from being indifferent to me; yet, if I know myself, I am sure I have justice enough to love her equally, and generosity enough to be more tender of her, were she to suffer by this distemper. But, as her humility, and her affection to me, would induce her to think herself under greater obligation to me, for such my tenderness to her, were she to lose any the least valuable of her perfections, I rejoice that she will have no reason for mortification on that score.

My respects to Lord Davers, and your noble neighbours. I am

Your affectionate brother,
And humble servant.

LETTER LXXXI.

P. B

LADY DAVERS TO MR B

LETTER LXXX.

MR B TO LADY DAVERS.

MY DEAR SISTER,

I TAKE very kindly your solicitude for the health of my beloved Pamela. The last line she wrote was to you; for she took to her bed the moment she laid down her pen.

I told her your kind message, and wishes for her safety, by my lord's gentleman; and she begged I would write a line to thank you, in her name, for your affectionate regards to her.

She is in a fine way to do well: For, with her accustomed prudence, she had begun to prepare herself by a proper regimen, the moment she knew the child's illness was the smallpox.

The worst is over with the boy, which keeps up her spirits; and her mother is so excellent a nurse to both, and we are so happy likewise in the care of a skilful physician, Dr M, (who directs and approves of every thing the good dame does,) that it is a singular providence this malady seized them here, and affords no small comfort to the dear creature herself.

When I tell you, that, to all appearance, her

[In answer to the preceding.]

MY DEAR BROTHER,

I DO most heartily congratulate you on the recovery of Master Billy, and the good way my sister is in. I am the more rejoiced, as her sweet face is not likely to suffer by the malady; for, be the beauties of the mind what they will, those of person are no small recommendation, with some folks, I am sure; and I began to be afraid, that when it was hardly possible for both conjoined to keep a roving mind constant, that one only would not be sufficient.

This news gives me the more pleasure, because I am well informed that a certain gay lady was pleased to give herself airs upon hearing of my sister's illness; as, that she could not be sorry for it; for now she should look upon herself as the prettiest woman in England. She meant only, I suppose, as to outward prettiness, brother!

You give me the name of a ready censurer. I own I think myself to be not a little interested in all that regards my brother, and his honour. But when some people are not readier to censure, than others to trespass, I know not whether they can with justice be styled censorious.