I met the following story lately in an old book; the writer appears to have been a person of great judgment, and not in _the least_ given to credulity. He relates, that a certain man who had a wife that made this world his purgatory (though, according to the _common acceptation_, she was _virtuous_ and prudent) happening to die some little time after her, he went to paradise, as soon as the breath was out of his body, as a reward for his patience in this world; being come to the gate, he knocks, the good man St Peter opens the door, and desires him very civilly to walk in, and take what seat in heaven he pleased. The husband stopped a moment to recollect himself; and then asks St Peter, Whether or not his wife was there? The good Saint answered in the affirmative: upon which the honest man, without staying for any thing further, takes to his heels and makes for the road to hell; rather choosing to renounce heaven, than be in the same place with his dear rib, whom he was well assured would, out of the abundance of her virtue, make heaven as great a hell to him, as she had done this earth. I must now, my dear friend, tell you what sincerely grieves me. My brother equals _yours_ in melancholy: before he went abroad, no man whatever had better spirits; but now, although he does not complain of any particular disorder, yet is he always indisposed--ever wretched, constantly sighing and lamenting. This affects my spirits much: "_my heart is not of that rock, nor my soul careless as that sea, which lifts its blue waves to every blast, and rolls beneath the storm!_" But truth obliges me to confess that I cannot go on with my admired poet as--"_The virgins_ have not as yet _beheld me silent in the hall_!" No, no no, it is not come to that yet! I relieve you from my company--be sensible of the obligation--let me hear from you soon, and believe me, Your ladyship's affectionate friend, H. BINGLEY.' From Lady Eliza Finlay to Miss Bingley. 'My dear Harriot, Many thanks for your agreeable letter, your _gaieté de coeur_ always pleases me, _Vive la bagatelle!_