e call'd
imperfect--How comes it that the domestics of _this_ family _so_ much
surpass those of _other_ people?--how is it _one_ interest governs the
whole?--I want to know a thousand mysteries.--I could write,--I could
think eternally,--of the first happy evening.--First happy evening do I
say? And can the days that crown that eve be forgot?--Heaven forbid! at
least whilst I have recollection.--My heart speaks so fast to my pen,
that fain my fingers would,--but cannot keep up with it.

The next morning Lord Darcey introduc'd to us the son of Mr.
Jenkings.--A finer youth I never saw!--Well might the old gentleman be
_suspicious_.--Few fathers would, like _him_, have sacrificed the
interest of a son, to preserve that of a friend.--To know the real rank
of Miss Powis;--her ten thousand virtues;--her great expectations; yet
act with so _much_ caution!--with an anxiety which the most sordid miser
watching his treasure, could not have exceeded! and for _what?_--Why
lest involuntarily she might enrich his belov'd son with _her_
affections.--Will you part with me to this extraordinary man?--Only for
an hour or two.--A walk is propos'd.--Our ramble will not be farther
than his house.--You say I may go. Thank you, Madam: I am gone.

Just return'd from the steward's, so cramm'd with sweet-meats, cake, and
jellies, that I am absolutely stupified.

I must tell you who led Miss Powis.--Lord Darcey, to be sure.--No,
Madam; I had the favour of his Lordship's arm:--it was Edmund.--I call
him Edmund;--every body calls him Edmund;--_yes_, and at Lord Darcey's
request _too_.--Never shall I forget in what a graceful manner!--But his
Lordship does every thing with grace.--He mention'd something of past
times, hinting he should not always have courted him to _such_ honour,
presenting the hand of his belov'd.

I wish I could send you her look at that moment; it was all love,--all
condescension.--I say I cannot send it.--Mortifying! I cannot even
borrow _it_.

Adieu, dear Madam!--Adieu, dear Sir!--Adieu, you best of parents--It is
impossible to say which is most dear to your ever dutiful and
affectionate

E. DELVES.

LETTER XLIV.

Miss DELVES to the same.

_Barford Abbey_.

Lost my heart _again!_--Be not surpriz'd, Madam; I lose and find it ten
times a day;--yet it never strays from Barford Abbey.--The last account
you had from me it was button'd inside Mr. Morgan's
hunting-frock:--since that, it has been God knows with w