give me grace so to return good
for evil as to obtain thy gracious favour who died to procure the
salvation of thy professed enemies. 'Tis a good Xmas work!"

"_Bath, Jan. 27th_, 1784.--On this day twelvemonths ... oh
dreadfullest of all days to me I did I send for my Piozzi and tell
him we must part. The sight of my countenance terrified Dr. Pepys, to
whom I went into the parlour for a moment, and the sight of the
agonies I endured in the week following would have affected anything
but interest, avarice, and pride personified, ... with such, however,
I had to deal, so my sorrows were unregarded. Seeing them continue
for a whole year, indeed, has mollified my strong-hearted companions,
and they _now_ relent in earnest and wish me happy: I would now
therefore be _loath to dye_, yet how shall I recruit my constitution
so as to live? The pardon certainly did arrive the very instant of
execution--for I was ill beyond all power of description, when my
eldest daughter, bursting into tears, bid me call home the man of my
heart, and not expire by slow torture in the presence of my children,
who had my life in their power. 'You are dying _now_,' said she. 'I
know it,' replied I, 'and I should die in peace had I but seen him
_once again_.' 'Oh send for him,' said she, 'send for him quickly!'
'He is at Milan, child,' replied I, 'a thousand miles off!' 'Well,
well,' returns she, 'hurry him back, or I myself will send him an
express.' At these words I revived, and have been mending ever since.
This was the first time that any of us had named the name of Piozzi
to each other since we had put our feet into the coach to come to
Bath. I had always thought it a point of civility and prudence never
to mention what could give nothing but offence, and cause nothing but
disgust, while they desired nothing less than a revival of old
uneasiness; so we were all silent on the subject, and Miss Thrale
thought him dead."

According to the Autobiography, the daughters did not conclusively
relent till the end of April or the beginning of May, when a missive
was dispatched for Piozzi, and Mrs. Thrale went to London to make the
requisite preparations.

_Mrs. Thrale to Miss F. Burney_.

"Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square,
"Tuesday Night, May, 1784.

"I am come, dearest Burney. It is neither dream nor fiction; though I
love you dearly, or I would not have come. Absence and distance do
nothing towards wearing out real affection; so you shal