I was interrupted in my _sermon_ by a call to the library. It was to meet our new chaplain, for whom my uncle promised to provide, when he procured the appointment of Mr. Oliphant to the parish of Glenalta; and what words can describe our joy at finding in this young man, no other than your neighbour and intimate friend, Alfred Stanley. A person with whom we all feel so well acquainted, and have such reason, through your dear aunt’s eloquent sketches of his character, to admire and value without having ever seen him till now. Mamma, you know of old, loves to play us a little trick sometimes; and in the present instance I find that all the Checkley family have been in league with her to surprise us. Judge then of our astonishment at receiving your packet by Mr. Stanley, whose groom returns to-morrow into Derbyshire, and shall take this _volume_ to you. A few days now will see us _en route_. I cannot hope to send you more than a _line_ till I reach Paris. Adieu, my dearest Julia; I would that we had done with towns, and were safely arrived in that beautiful region where the mighty “Alps have reared a throne” worthy of those skies which gild their everlasting snows with refulgent glory. A thousand loves attend you all. Ever your affectionate, EMILY DOUGLAS. LETTER XXXVII. REV. MR. OLIPHANT TO MR. OTWAY. To you, my dear friend, I address myself upon the present occasion, though gratitude has long ere this, dictated a return of my best acknowledgments to Mrs. Douglas, for _two_ such letters as deserve indeed my heart-felt thanks. But I have been painfully occupied, and I leave to your discretion the time and method of explaining to my dear friend, the cause of my silence, which is no other than the death of our worthy and much lamented neighbour Mr. Bentley, an event, intelligence of which, I well know, will not be heard at Marsden with indifference. A fortnight ago he returned, as usual, from his ride, accompanied by George, and immediately on entering the house, fell into a sort of fit, which appeared to result from determination of blood towards the head. George sent directly for me, and we had Mr. Pigot immediately from Tralee, who acted with judgment, and ere the surgeon and physician, for whom we sent to Dublin, had reached Mount Prospect, our poor friend had recovered his sensibility. The devotion of George to his uncle could not be exceeded, and it was so purely disinterested, that the wealth of Potosi would have weighed but as a feather in the balance, against the re-establishment of Mr. Bentley’s health. The medical people, however, saw from the first, that his situation was precarious, of which he was conscious from the beginning himself. With Christian courage, he began to prepare for the awful change which he perceived to be approaching, and truly died the death of the righteous. Yesterday evening he breathed