. . . .To my shame be it spoken I have the
favor of a second letter from you, before I have
thanked you for the first, you are extremely good to think of poor
Mrs. Talbot, and I have writ to here
to day to acquaint her with your kind offer. As I do not know whether
she is at Canterbury or
Margate, my letter may not reach her immediately, but as soon as every
I receive her answer, I
will let you know. I hope she is not so unlucky as to be engaged, as
I am persuaded nothing could
render her situation so happy as being placed with you. [return]
I am heartily sorry, though not at all
surprised, that poor Mrs. Susan has obliged
you to deprive her of this great advantage. The future
care you design still to take of her, is perfectly worthy of you, and
it is to be hoped the poor girl
will grow wise enough to make the proper use of it. I am heartily grieved
for the uneasiness this
unlucky affair gives you: but surely, my dear friend, you ought not
to charge yourself with
consequences, in which you have no concern; every right action is registered
in heaven, and there
remains independant [sic] on the wrong uses that maybe made of it by
those for whose benefit it
was designed. Besides, the behaviour of human creatures, is perhaps
much less often influenced
by difference of situation, than we are apt to imagine; and this very
person might have been just
as weak and unhappy if you had, as you wish, left here where you found
her. The rustic language
of the plough-boy, to the waggoner's mate, might have been just as
seducing to the awkward girl
in a rugged cottage, as the more courtly address of the spruce powered
footman, to the more
delicate ear of the Lady's maid. But however this be; as I am persuaded
you took her under your
protection with the kindest intentions, and have endeavoured to furnish
her with the only
principles that could secure her conduct and her happiness, there is
surely no reason for you to
suffer any anxiety on your own account, though it is impossible to
a heart like yours, not be
affected by the misery which her unhappy imprudence has brought upon
herself. I long to know
how you are likely to proceed in procuring her a protection; and I
shall be very impatient till I
know whether your mind is more at ease, for I am alarmed at your want
of sleep, I am sure your
health must be hurt by two such miserable nights. . . . [return]
I am sorry for all this bustle in the state; you know I had much set my
heart on Mr. Pitt's
remaining till the conclusion of the war. But what have I to do with
politics! Heaven direct our
governors for the best!
I will go on transcribing as fast as my head
will let me, and revise and correct as well as I
can. You talked at Tunbridge that the prose should be printed too,
are you still in the same mind [?]
However I will write it, and when you have the manuscript to look over,
conclude just as you
like best. I have been thinking since I wrote to you, that a duodecimo
will be the prettiest size,
and I fancy there is enough to make it for all the world like a book
though it will be most
meritoriously small. . . . [return]
