Resigned, Dr. Bartlett! Miss Byron is a saint. She cannot but be resigned, in the solemn sense of the word Resignation implies hopelessness, if she is so ill, would not you, my dear Dr. Bartlett, have informed me of it Or was it from tenderness You must be kind in all you do

I did not apprehend, said Lady L.. that Miss Byron was so very much indisposed. Did you, my lord? (to Lord L.) Upon my word, doctor, sister, it was unkind, if so, that you made me not acquainted

And then her good-natured eye dropt a tear of love for her Harriet.

I was sorry this went so far. My brother was very uneasy. So was Mr. Beauchamp, for him, and for you, my dear.

That she is and endeavours to be, so cheerful, said Licauchamp, shews, that nothing lies upon hen mind My father’s illness only can more effect me, than Miss Byron’s.

Emily wept for her Miss Byron. She has always been afraid that her illness would be attended with ill consequences.

My dear love, my Harriet, you must be well. See how every-body loves you. I told my brother, that I expected a letter from Northamptonshire, by the next post; and I would inform him truly of the state of your health, from the contents of it.

I would not for the world have you think, my Harriet, that I meant to excite my brother’s attention to you, by what I said. Yoi’.r honour is the honour of the sex. lor are you not one of the most d ‘iieate-minded, as well as frankest, of it? It is no n.ws to iay, that my brother dearly loves you. I i, id not want to know his solicitude for vour health.

Where he once loves, he always loves. Did you not observe, that I supposed it a natural decline? God grant that it may not be so. And thus am I impru-dently discouraging you, in mentioning my appre — hensions of your ill health, in order to shew my regard for your punctilio: but you shall, you will, be well; and the wife of the best of men God grant it may be so! But, however that is to be, we have all laid our heads together, and are determined, for your delicacy — sake, to let this matter take its course; since, after an opening so undesignedly warm, you might otherwise imagine our solicitude in the affair capable of beiny thought too urgent. I tell you, my dear, that, worthy as Sir Charles Grandison is of a princess, he shall not call you by his name, but with all his soul.

As my brother laid it out to us this evening, I find we shall lose him for some days. The game-sters whom Mr. Grandison permitted to ruin him, are at Winchester: dividing, I suppose, and rejoicing over, their spoils of the last season Whether my brother intends to see them or not, I cannot tell. He expects not to do any-thing with them. They, no doubt, will shew the foolish fellow, that they can keep what he could not: and Sir Charles aims only at practicable and legal, not at romantic, redresses.