Not altogether so; but if I did, I can believe your excellent preceptor has prepared you to meet misfortune as becomes you. Methinks you hardly can have glanced your eye upon a single page in any moral book, that does not give you lessons of that sort. Even your pagan poets, whilst with idle levity they counsel you to devote your time to pleasure, give you at least fair warning of its shortness. True, sir, but we have better masters than they are, to whom we may apply. I am aware that there are no hopes for my poor mother; and it is nothing strange that she should die, who for years past can hardly have been said to live: but that my father, seeing her condition, could leave her almost in the article of death, is matter of astonishment to me. Such is his nature, John; and whether we must call it the defect of head or heart is more than I can tell. He is gone however, whither I know not, and she, poor soul, who has known little happiness on earth, is going where alone it can be sought. Her last care was for you.--Something there was, some wish that seemed to weigh upon her heart; but in her effort to express it, nature failed her, and she fainted. That--that indeed--cried John, was most unfortunate. Did she let fall no words to guide conjecture? Her words, De Lancaster replied, I am perfect in--“There was an humble being in the world, lovely and full of promise--Oh, if she--if she should”--There she stopt. It is enough! John cried. I’ll wait here with your leave till I am permitted to pay my last sad duty to a parent, whom I have known but at the close of life. As Mr. De Lancaster was rising to depart, it occurred to him to enquire about the paper, which John had so hastily thrust into his pocket--Let me know, he said, what you were reading so attentively when I entered the gallery. It seemed a letter, and by the eagerness with which you put it up, I suspect it may contain some interesting matter: If so, John, you hardly will conceal it from me. Certainly not, replied the youth, if you command me to produce it; but I am sorry that you noticed it, for it will only bring to your recollection a subject totally unworthy of your thoughts at any time, especially in a moment like the present. It is, as you supposed, a letter; an insolent one you may well believe, for it comes from Sir David Owen; but as he has quitted the country, I hope you will not ask to see the favour he has bestowed on me at parting. Grandson, resumed De Lancaster, I am become too much a party in the subject you allude to, not to be interested in whatever correspondence you may hold with that dishonourable young man; therefore let me see what he has written to you. This authoritative order was instantly obeyed; the letter was delivered, and De Lancaster read as follows--