rest, I know your parental anxiety will be all awake for me, and will make you tremble for my preservation; but fear nothing. I have a noble presentiment which never quits me, of future elevation! Some protecting genius shelters me from danger, and averts every fatal accident from me. I have no doubt I shall return to you bye-and-bye,--I cannot promise you a richer man, but I can promise you, a wiser man. What passed last night I cannot now mention to you. I may not trust to this uncertain, dangerous conveyance. It is enough to say that all goes more than well, that I am approved by my queen, that I am promised to share in the future happy prospects, if we can realise them. That be my endeavour! I have devoted myself to the enterprise. I have passed the Rubicon, and won't retreat. If ever virtuous glory had power to animate a young man's bosom, it ought to do so in mine! This night, or rather early in the morning, by moonlight, I begin my journey. It is only about 80 English miles; but I don't expect to reach Hamburgh before Wednesday noon, as I shall only travel during that part of the night when the moon lights me on the way. You may depend, my dearest father, that I will indeed take every care of my safety possible. They implore me here to do so. _She_ has laid her commands on me to be careful of myself, for _Her_ sake. What more forcible motives can I have? I half think I shall go on to Copenhagen; but 'tis dangerous, and that point's not settled yet. At Hamburgh I shall know all. Hitherto, all success attends us: nor do I doubt that it will attend us to the end. "'Tis not in mortals to command success:" we must do our utmost, and leave the rest to fate. And now, my best, kindest, dearest father, I bid you and my mother farewell! I am just going to set out for Hamburgh. Pray let me hear of her story from you: 'twill be very inspiriting to a poor traveller, amid the horrid roads of Westphalia and Lower Saxony. * * * * * No. 6. HAMBURGH, _Feb._ 23, 1775. I have received no money yet in repayment of the £100 I spent last autumn; but _She_ has not only promised me, in the fullest terms, that sum, but superior marks of her bounty, if all goes well. We must have patience, my dear father: time will do more for us than anything else. Hanbury wonders what the deuce has brought me here. I told him I came by Osnabrück and Bremen, and said not a word of Zell or Hanover. "You're a wicked fellow," he said to me. "You've done some mischief: some man's wife, now, or some lady or other. You had better be candid, and tell me, for your father will, I am sure, bye-and-bye." 'Twas just the pretext I intended to screen myself with. So I told him that a little affair of gallantry, harmless enough, had induced me just now to travel, and that my intentions were for Berlin. _That_ has satisfied him.