Julia, even when I shall be no more, your plagues on my account are not likely to cease.... Good night, Julia. I am going to rest, thank God! free from the consciousness of intentional offence, and from any wish tainted with personal resentment. John when in France had been an ardent admirer of Rousseau, whose style he now unconsciously catches:-- Wednesday night: July 11. It is now eleven o'clock, and I have only time to address my beloved Julia in a short eternal farewell. Thou sacred power! whatever be thy name and nature, who has created us the frail and imperfect creatures we are, hear the ardent prayer of a creature now on the eve of an awful change. If thy Divine Providence can be affected by mortal supplication, hear and grant, I beseech Thee, the last wishes of a heart that has ever adored Thy goodness. Let peace and happiness once more visit the bosom of my beloved family. Let a mild grief succeed the miseries they have endured, and when an affectionate tear is generously shed over the dust of him who caused their misfortunes--let all their ensuing days glide on in union and domestic harmony. Enlighten my beloved brother; to him and his invaluable wife grant the undisturbed enjoyment of their mutual love, and as they advance let their means of providing for the sweet pledges of their attachment increase. Let my Julia, my feeling--my too feeling--Julia, feel the consolation she has so often sought for others, let her soul repose at length in the consummation of all her wishes--let her taste that happiness her virtues have so well merited. For my other sisters provide those comforts their situation requires. To my mother, oh, Eternal Power! what gift shall I wish for my matchless parent? Restore to her that peace which I have torn from her--let her forget me in the ceaseless affections of my remaining sisters, and in their growing prosperity--let her taste that happiness which is best suited to her affectionate heart, and when at length she is called home, let her find in everlasting bliss the due reward of a life of suffering virtue. Adieu, my Julia, my light is just out, the approach of darkness is like that of death, since both alike require I shall say farewell for ever. Oh, my dear family, farewell--farewell for ever! In dealing with Armstrong's conduct in this case,[699] I regret being obliged to take a tone different from that of Mr. Lecky, who has placed his character in a somewhat favourable point of view. The sealed chest in Dublin Castle, which was opened some years ago, contained McNally's secret reports, signed 'J. W.' Among them is the following, dated by McNally, July 14, 1798:-- _Lord Cork's First Letter_