allow me, Madam, however, to tell you, that I myself could not
have believed that my inimitable testatrix's own Miss Howe would have
been the most backward in performing such a part of her dear friend's
last will, as is entirely in her own power to perform--especially, when
that performance would make one of the most deserving men in England
happy; and whom, I presume, she proposes to honour with her hand.

Excuse me, Madam, I have a most sincere veneration for you; and would not
disoblige you for the world.

I will not presume to make remarks on the letters I send you; nor upon
the informations I have to give you of the dreadful end of two unhappy
wretches who were the greatest criminals in the affair of your adorable
friend. These are the infamous Sinclair, and a person whom you have read
of, no doubt, in the letters of the charming innocent, by the name of
Captain Tomlinson.

The wretched woman died in the extremest tortures and despondency: the
man from wounds got in defending himself in carrying on a contraband
trade; both accusing themselves, in their last hours, for the parts they
had acted against the most excellent of women, as of the crime that gave
them the deepest remorse.

Give me leave to say, Madam, that if your compassion be not excited for
the poor man who suffers so greatly from his own anguish of mind, as you
will observe by his letter he does; and for the unhappy family, whose
remorse, you will see by Colonel Morden's, is so deep; your terror must.
And yet I should not wonder, if the just sense of the irreparable loss
you have sustained hardens a heart against pity, which, on a less
extraordinary occasion, would want its principal grace, if it were not
compassionate.

I am, Madam, with the greatest respect and gratitude,
Your most obliged and faithful humble servant,
J. BELFORD.

LETTER XLVIII

MISS HOWE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
SATURDAY, SEPT. 30.

SIR,

I little thought I ever could have owed so much obligation to any man as
you have laid me under. And yet what you have sent me has almost broken
my heart, and ruined my eyes.

I am surprised, though agreeably, that you have so soon, and so well, got
over that part of the trust you have engaged in, which relates to the
family.

It may be presumed, from the exits you mention of two of the infernal
man's accomplices, that the thunderbolt will not stop short of the
principal. Indeed I have some pleasure to think it seems rolling a