wish to live, whilst that life is useful to him. I am prepared for the event of being hateful to his eyes. God will have compassion on me!” My tears composed her; and my arguments were listened to. She promised me to be all I wished; and I broke up the conversation by proposing a walk in the avenue. Her husband joined us there, and I told him I had been chiding my mother. He smiled tenderly, and placed himself between us, observing, that he would keep the peace. “You will not succeed,” replied I with assumed gaiety; “nor will I accept of you for an ally; you are too much like your wife; but I have blustered her already into obedience to my will; and she had promised to be good, and to walk with me every day the sun shines, instead of sitting in Miss Flint’s room to hear of pains which she cannot alleviate. He thanked her, and blessed your RACHEL COWLEY. LETTER LIX. _From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle._ I am glad you agree with me in thinking it proper that our dear Mary should know the doctor’s opinion of her aunt’s precarious life. She has consented with great reluctance to see Doctor Tufton; he confirms our fears, and has made no change in her medicines. She told Douglass that she hoped he was satisfied by her compliance with his wishes, and added, “Do not think I am to be deceived; I have done with medicines and doctors.” “I told her that in that case I should think myself dismissed from her presence as well as favour,” said the doctor. “She answered that the visits of a friend would still be useful and acceptable;” but added she dejectedly, “your prescriptions may not be more infallible for a sick mind, than a diseased body.” “I took her burning hand,” continued the good doctor, “and with sincerity of heart I told her, that in both my characters, as her physician, and as her friend, I still hoped to be salutary to her, on condition she did not desert herself. You are too low now, added I, pouring out an untasted cordial at my hand; you ought to have taken this two hours since. She put the cup aside, and, shaking her head, said, you know it will do me no good; these are not the cordials I need. I know there are others within your reach, replied I with seriousness, that would contribute to give efficacy to this, and which you refuse from a despondency of mind which you ought to check. Wherefore is it, that with a brother nigh you, and whose conversation would cheer you, you refuse to see him? His heart is melting with compassion at the intelligence of your dejection and sufferings.” “Why then does he not come and tell me so? asked she with agitation. But I know what keeps him at a distance! he cannot say, Lucretia, I forgive you! he cannot say, be comforted!”