f such a shining light, that if you do not quickly
reform, it will be out of your power to reform at all; and that
Providence, which has already given you the fates of your agents Sinclair
and Tomlinson to take warning by, will not let the principal offender
escape, if he slight the warning.

You will, perhaps, laugh at me for these serious reflections. Do, if you
will. I had rather you should laugh at me, for continuing in this way of
thinking and acting, than triumph over me, as you threaten, on my
swerving from purposes I have determined upon with such good reason, and
induced and warned by such examples.

And so much for this subject at present.

I should be glad to know when you intend to set out. I have too much
concern for your welfare, not to wish you in a thinner air and more
certain climate.

What have Tourville and Mowbray to do, that they cannot set out with you?
They will not covet my company, I dare say; and I shall not be able to
endure theirs, when you are gone: take them, therefore, with you.

I will not, however, forswear making you a visit at Paris, at your return
from Germany and Italy: but hardly with the hope of reclaiming you, if
due reflection upon what I have set before you, and upon what you have
written in your two last, will not by that time have done it.

I suppose I shall see you before you go. Once more I wish you were gone.
This heavy island-air cannot do for you what that of the Continent will.

I do not think I ought to communicate with you, as I used to do, on this
side the Channel: let me, then, hear from you on the opposite shore, and
you shall command the pen, as you please; and, honestly, the power of

J. BELFORD.

LETTER XLI

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
TUESDAY, SEPT. 26.

Fate, I believe, in my conscience, spins threads for tragedies, on
purpose for thee to weave with.--Thy Watford uncle, poor Belton, the
fair inimitable, [exalted creature! and is she to be found in such a
list!] the accursed woman, and Tomlinson, seemed to have been all doomed
to give thee a theme for the dismal and the horrible;--and, by my soul,
that thou dost work it going, as Lord M. would phrase it.

That's the horrid thing, a man cannot begin to think, but causes for
thought crowd in upon him; the gloomy takes place, and mirth and gaiety
abandon his heard for ever!

Poor M'Donald!--I am really sorry for the fellow.--He was an useful,
faithful, solemn varlet, who could act