left about two hundred pounds in money, and two hundred
pounds in two East-India bonds; and I will contrive, if I can, to make
up the poor woman's fifty pounds, and my hundred guineas, two hundred
pounds to her; and then she will have some little matter coming in
certain, which I will oblige her to keep out of the hands of a son, who
has completed that ruin which his father had very nearly effected.

I gave Tourville his twenty pounds, and will send you and Mowbray your's
by the first order.

And so much for poor Belton's affairs till I see you.

I got to town in the evening, and went directly to Smith's. I found Mrs.
Lovick and Mrs. Smith in the back shop, and I saw they had been both in
tears. They rejoiced to see me, however; and told me, that the Doctor
and Mr. Goddard were but just gone; as was also the worthy clergyman, who
often comes to pray by her; and all three were of opinion, that she would
hardly live to see the entrance of another week. I was not so much
surprised as grieved; for I had feared as much when I left her on
Saturday.

I sent up my compliments; and she returned, that she would take it for a
favour if I would call upon her in the morning by eight o'clock. Mrs.
Lovick told me that she had fainted away on Saturday, while she was
writing, as she had done likewise the day before; and having received
benefit then by a little turn in a chair, she was carried abroad again.
She returned somewhat better; and wrote till late; yet had a pretty good
night: and went to Covent-garden church in the morning; but came home so
ill that she was obliged to lie down.

When she arose, seeing how much grieved Mrs. Lovick and Mrs. Smith were
for her, she made apologies for the trouble she gave them--You were
happy, said she, before I came hither. It was a cruel thing in me to
come amongst honest strangers, and to be sick, and die with you.

When they touched upon the irreconcileableness of her friends, I have had
ill offices done me to them, said she, and they do not know how ill I am;
nor will they believe any thing I should write. But yet I cannot
sometimes forbear thinking it a little hard, that out of so many near and
dear friends as I have living, not one of them will vouchsafe to look
upon me. No old servant, no old friend, proceeded she, to be permitted
to come near me, without being sure of incurring displeasure! And to
have such a great work to go through by myself, a young creature as I am,
and