air.
Mrs. Smith told me this with the same surprise and grief that I heard it.

* See Letter XXIII. of this volume.

She was very ill in the afternoon, having got cold either at St.
Dunstan's, or at chapel, and sent for the clergyman to pray by her; and
the women, unknown to her, sent both for Dr. H. and Mr. Goddard: who were
just gone, as I told you, when I came to pay my respects to her this
evening.

And thus have I recounted from the good women what passed to this night
since my absence.

I long for to-morrow, that I may see her: and yet it is such a melancholy
longing as I never experienced, and know not how to describe.

TUESDAY, AUG. 29.

I was at Smith's at half an hour after seven. They told me that the lady
was gone in a chair to St. Dunstan's: but was better than she had been in
either of the two preceding days; and that she said she to Mrs. Lovick
and Mrs. Smith, as she went into the chair, I have a good deal to answer
for to you, my good friends, for my vapourish conversation of last night.

If, Mrs. Lovick, said she, smiling, I have no new matters to discompose
me, I believe my spirits will hold out purely.

She returned immediately after prayers.

Mr. Belford, said she, as she entered the back shop where I was, (and
upon my approaching her,) I am very glad to see you. You have been
performing for your poor friend a kind last office. 'Tis not long ago
since you did the same for a near relation. Is it not a little hard upon
you, that these troubles should fall so thick to your lot? But they are
charitable offices: and it is a praise to your humanity, that poor dying
people know not where to choose so well.

I told her I was sorry to hear she had been so ill since I had the honour
to attend her; but rejoiced to find that now she seemed a good deal
better.

It will be sometimes better, and sometimes worse, replied she, with poor
creatures, when they are balancing between life and death. But no more
of these matters just now. I hope, Sir, you'll breakfast with me. I was
quite vapourish yesterday. I had a very bad spirit upon me. Had I not,
Mrs. Smith? But I hope I shall be no more so. And to-day I am perfectly
serene. This day rises upon me as if it would be a bright one.

She desired me to walk up, and invited Mr. Smith and his wife, and Mrs.
Lovick also, to breakfast with her. I was better pleased with her
liveliness than with her looks.

The good people retiring after bre