“As soon as I regain the use of my limbs, I shall look out for a suitable abode for Mrs. De Lancaster in this delicious place, where I promise myself a high entertainment in surveying the dilapidations and disorders occasioned by the great earthquake, which has made the town a heap of interesting ruins. “I have written you a long letter, so, with my duty to my father and regards to all at home, I conclude myself, dear sister, “Your very faithful servant and loving brother, “PHILIP DE LANCASTER.” CHAPTER III. _Mr. Philip De Lancaster in his Hotel at Lisbon receives the News of his Lady’s Death, and is visited by Sir David Ap Owen. The Consequences of that Interview are related._ If this letter was read by our hero with mixed impressions of vexation and disgust it is little to be wondered at, for certainly no character less extravagantly absurd than that of Philip could have dictated such a narrative in a serious mood and without varying from the truth of fact. The intelligence of his wife’s decease was now gone to him at Lisbon, and the consequences, that might ensue from the fatal weakness of his intellect and the interested cunning of the widow Owen were very seriously to be apprehended. His natural indolence still kept him a voluntary prisoner in his hotel at Buenos Ayres and under the hands of his surgeon, though he had no longer any need of surgical assistance. When Cecilia’s letter reached his hands he was sitting, in all the costuma of a wounded invalid, in a bed-gown and night-cap, with his leg, that, having once been bruised, had not forfeited its privilege, resting on a stool provided with an easy cushion. Having perused the contents, he deliberately folded up the letter, laid it on the table before him, and, reclining back in his chair, surrendered himself to a kind of drowsy meditation on the solemn nature of the event, now communicated to him: at length, being in the habit talking more confidentially to himself than to any other person, he murmured out the following reflections, as they presented themselves to his mind without order or connection.