Mr. Lowther writes to you: I say nothing, there-fore, of that worthy man.

I am wished to write more enforcingly to you, on a certain important subject: but I say, I cannot, dare not, will not.

Dear Grandison, love still your Jeronymo! Your friendship makes life worthy of my wish. It has been a consolation to me, when every other failed, and all around me was darkness, and the shadow of death. You will often be troubled with letters from me. My beloved, my dearest friend, my Grandison, adieu!

JERONYMO DKLLA PORRETTA.

Letter III.

Lady Clementina to Sir Charles Grandison.

Bologna, Monday, September 15, N. S. How welcome to me was your letter from Lyons! My good Chevalier Grandison, my heart thanks you for it: yet it was possible that heart could have been still more thankful, had I not observed in your letter an air of pensiveness, though it is endeavoured to be concealed. What pain would it give me to know, that you suffer on my account! Ikit no more in this htrain: a complaining one must take place.

O chevalier, I am persecuted! And by whom? By my dearest, my nearest friends. I was afraid it would, be so. Why would you deny me your insill CHARLES GRANDISON. if fluence, when I importuned you for it? Why would you not stay among us, till you saw me professed? Then had I been happy In time, I should have been happy! Now am I beset with entreaties, with supplications, from those who ought to command; yet unlawfull}^ if they did: I presume to think so: since parents, though they ought to be consult-ed in the change of condition, as to the persoti; yet surely should not oblige the child to marry, who chooses to be single all her life. A more cogent reason may be pleaded, and I do plead it to my re-lations, as Catholics, since I wish for nothing so much as to assume the veil. But you are a Protest-ant: you favour not a divine dedication, and would not plead for me. On the contrary, you have strength-ened their hands! O chevalier! how bould you do so, and ever love me! Did you not know, there was but one way to escape the grievous consequences of the importunities of those who justly lay claim to my obedience? And they do claim it.

And in what forcible manner, claim it! Shall I tell you? Thus, then: My father, with tears in his eyes, beseeches me! My mother gently reminds me of what she has suffered for me in my illness; and declares, that it is in my power to make the rc>:t of her days happy: nor shall she think my own tran-quillity of mind secured, till I oblige her! O che — valier, what pleas are these from a father, whose eyes plead more strongly than words; and from a mother, on whose bright days I have cast a cloud! The bishop pleads: I low can a catholic bishop plead, and not for n)e? The general declares, that he never wooed his beloved wife for her consent with more i’ervour than he does me for mine, to oblige thcni all. Nay, .leronymo! Blush, sisterly love! to say it Jeronymo, vour friend Jeronvmo, is solicitous on the same side Even Father Marescotti is carried away by the example of the bishop. Mrs. Beaumont argues with me in their favour And Camilla, who was ever full of your praises, teases me continually.