and weep aloud that I have lost her Mother, and that I
have her.

'_Mr._ SPECTATOR, I wish it were possible for you to have a Sense of
these pleasing Perplexities; you might communicate to the guilty part
of Mankind, that they are incapable of the Happiness which is in the
very Sorrows of the Virtuous.

'But pray spare me a little longer; give me Leave to tell you the
Manner of her Death. She took leave of all her Family, and bore the
vain Application of Medicines with the greatest Patience imaginable.
When the Physician told her she must certainly die, she desired, as
well as she could, that all who were present, except my self, might
depart the Room. She said she had nothing to say, for she was
resigned, and I knew all she knew that concerned us in this World; but
she desired to be alone, that in the presence of God only she might,
without Interruption, do her last Duty to me, of thanking me for all
my Kindness to her; adding, that she hoped in my last Moments I should
feel the same Comfort for my Goodness to her, as she did in that she
had acquitted herself with Honour, Truth and Virtue to me.

'I curb my self, and will not tell you that this Kindness cut my Heart
in twain, when I expected an Accusation for some passionate Starts of
mine, in some Parts of our Time together, to say nothing, but thank me
for the Good, if there was any Good suitable to her own Excellence!
All that I had ever said to her, all the Circumstances of Sorrow and
Joy between us, crowded upon my Mind in the same Instant; and when
immediately after I saw the Pangs of Death come upon that dear Body
which I had often embraced with Transport, when I saw those cherishing
Eyes begin to be ghastly, and their last Struggle to be to fix
themselves on me, how did I lose all patience? She expired in my Arms,
and in my Distraction I thought I saw her Bosom still heave. There was
certainly Life yet still left; I cried she just now spoke to me: But
alas! I grew giddy, and all things moved about me from the Distemper
of my own Head; for the best of Women was breathless, and gone for
ever.

'Now the Doctrine I would, methinks, have you raise from this Account
I have given you is, That there is a certain Equanimity in those who
are good and just, which runs into their very Sorrow, and disappoints
the Force of it. Though they must pass through Afflictions in common
with all who are in