together, for you know my James, that I have none of that narrowness which excites to Envy, or Detraction, at the sight of superior Merit. I fear, poor Woman, that she will not be as happy as she deserves to be, for the man, she has chosen, by M^{rs}. Shaws Account, is a contemptible one, and in wretched Circumstances, without a prospect of Improving them—She now, I am told, lives in the black Town at Madrass, without Friends, without Acquaintances, Conveniences, Notice.—Still—her Book, and her Pen afford her constant Employment—Here is a proof of the Advantages of a natural good Taste, being well cultivated—but for the resources in her own mind, M^{rs}. Tasswell must have sunk a prey to affliction—or been a Wretch indeed—if incapable of Feeling what she has experienced—for of all Misery, that I think is the greatest, which renders us incapable of estimating our Blessings—or misfortunes arightly—be my Woes in Life what they will, may I never be delivered of them at so sad a cost as inconsiderateness—“I had rather stand all Adventures with Religion, (even tho’ I practised not the Duties of it) than Endeavor to get rid of the Thoughts of it by Diversion.”—M^{rs}. Taswell, I hope is employ’d in some Ingenious Work,—a Woman who writes well, cannot I believe write too much, if she neglects none of the Duties of her own sex to be so engaged—but these are certainly, her first concern, and these accomplished—the more she excels in, the more she Evidences the strength of her Genius, and that Economy of Time, which it is Wisdom, to be an Economist of.—Miss Shaw, I think, a whining, La La Girl—don’t you think so my dear? I am sorry if I do her injustice, but there’s nothing which attaches me to her, either in the way of sentiment, manners, or appearance—for I detest that covert insignificancy, which is comprised in the appellation of good natured sort of Girls—to me, it implies, that any Man might make a Fool of Her, who could be satisfied with a non-resisting Victory. M^{rs}. Playdell, and Miss Harris, as I told you by the Hampshire, remain’d at the Cape instead of proceeding to Bombay—had they come here, I would have shewn them all the rites of Hospitality—Cap^t. Taylor, will tell you all you wish to know relative to them—the M^r. Gambier you mentioned to me, at your Father’s request my dear, went Home Cap^t. Taylors Passenger, He is a fine Youth, and dear to me, and all who know Him, on the score of his Worth, strict Principles, and Amiable Manners are his real Characteristicks—I have given him a letter for you, by way of Passport, to your Notice—He desired & deserves, it—therefore I could not refuse Him—I fear poor Youth, We never shall see Him again, for the Disorder in his Neck (an Aneurism) is of too dangerous a nature, to give sanguine Hopes of his surviving the necessary Operation in case He submits to it—and if He does not—He must never more Visit India, as the Heat of this Climate would soon increase it, beyond the Power of Art to reduce