return, are
omitted.

O my dearest, my honoured Miss Byron, how you have shamed your Emily by
sending a letter to her; such a sweet letter too! before I have paid my
duty to you, in a letter of thanks for all your love to me, and for all
your kind instructions. But I began once, twice, and thrice, and wrote a
great deal each time, but could not please myself: you, madam, are such a
writer, and I am such a poor thing at my pen!--But I know you will accept
the heart. And so my very diffidence shews pride; since it cannot be
expected from me to be a fine writer: and yet this very letter, I
foresee, will be the worse for my diffidence, and not the better: for I
don't like this beginning, neither.--But come, it shall go. Am I not
used to your goodness? And do you not bid me prattle to you, in my
letters, as I used to do in your dressing-room? O what sweet advice have
you, and do you return for my silly prate! And so I will begin.

And was you grieved at parting with your Emily on Saturday morning? I am
sure I was very much concerned at parting with you. I could not help
crying all the way to town; and Lady G---- shed tears as well as I, and
so did Lady L---- several times; and said, You were the loveliest, best
young lady in the world. And we all praised likewise your aunt, your
cousin Lucy, and young Mr. Selby. How good are all your relations! They
must be good! And Lord L----, and Lord G----, for men, were as much
concerned as we, at parting with you. Mr. Reeves was so dull all the
way!--Poor Mr. Reeves, he was very dull. And Mr. Beauchamp, he praised
you to the very skies; and in such a pretty manner too! Next to my
guardian, I think Mr. Beauchamp is a very agreeable man. I fancy these
noble sisters, if the truth were known, don't like him so well as their
brother does: perhaps that may be the reason, out of jealousy, as I may
say, if there be any thing in my observation. But they are vastly civil
to him, nevertheless; yet they never praise him when his back is turned;
as they do others, who can't say half the good things that he says.

Well, but enough of Mr. Beauchamp. My guardian! my gracious, my kind, my
indulgent guardian! who, that thinks of him, can praise any body else?

O, madam! Where is he now? God protect and guide my guardian, wherever
he goes! This is my prayer, first and last, and I can't tell how often
in the day. I look for him in every place I have seen him in; [And pray
tell me, madam, did not you