As my letter has run on to an overgrown length, I will conclude it here, where the subject naturally divides itself; and in my next will proceed with my narrative, in the hope that you will aid my purpose by observing on every defect in the chain of my endeavours, and furnishing strength to my weakness from the stores of your own information. My whole soul is engrossed in the cause which heaven has blessed already beyond my most sanguine expectations. Our dear friend, Mr. Otway, is a powerful auxiliary. I should say that he were the _principal_ instrument, if his knowledge of human nature did not teach him to lie by in a great degree, till I, as a pioneer, have cleared the path. “The still small voice” of female affection, like the mouse in the fable, will sometimes achieve more than the lion’s force, and I am heartily contented to rank no higher than “yon wee bit sleek, and cowering beastie.” as our favourite Burns styles this tiny animal, if I may only be permitted by my humble efforts, to unloose the cords which would restrain the spirit’s flight, and bind to groveling earth an angel of the skies. Adieu, dear friend, Your faithful and affectionate, CAROLINE DOUGLAS. LETTER XXXV. FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. _Marsden._ My dear Friend, You are expecting a letter, and it shall be delayed no longer. To return to the subject of my last: my brother confessed, as I told you, that his great difficulties lay in questions _without_ the range of Bible testimony, considered either as a system of moral virtue, or a history of mankind.