mber the 25th
1798: the infant was preserved. The sentiments of Dr. Garnett on this
occasion will be best expressed in his own words, in a letter to Mr.
Ort, of Bury in Lancashire.

"Glasgow, January 1st. 1799.

"Oh my dear cousin, little did I expect that I should begin the new
year with telling you that I am now deprived of all earthly comforts;
yes, the dear companion of my studies, the friend of my heart, the
partner of my bosom, is now a piece of cold clay. The senseless earth
is closed on that form which was so lately animated by every virtue;
and whose only wish was to make me happy.

"Is there any thing, which can now afford me any consolation? Yes,
she is not lost, but gone before: but still it is hard to have all
our schemes of happiness wrecked: when our bark was within sight of
port, when we were promising ourselves more than common felicity, it
struck upon a rock: my only treasure went to the bottom, and I am
cast ashore, friendless, and deprived of every comfort. My poor, dear
love had been as well as usual during the two or three last months,
and even on the dreadful evening (christmas eve) she spoke with
pleasure of the approaching event. My spirits were elevated to so
uncommon a pitch, by the birth of a lovely daughter, that they were
by no means prepared for the succeeding scene; and they have been so
overwhelmed, that I sometimes hope it may be a dream, out of which I
wish to awake. The little infant is well, and I have called it
Catharine, a name which must ever be dear to me, and which I wish to
be able to apply to some object whom I love; for though it caused the
death of my hopes, it is dear to me, as being the last precious relic
of her, whom every body who knew her esteemed, and I loved. I must
now bid adieu to every comfort, and live only for the sweet babes.
Oh! 'tis hard, very hard.
"THOMAS GARNETT."
"To Mr. Ort, Bury,
Lancashire.

The affliction Dr. Garnett experienced on the death of his wife, was
never recovered. On all occasions of anxiety which were multiplied
upon him, by reason of his exquisite sensibility, he longed for the
consolation her society used to afford him; and although his
susceptibility to the action of external causes, would not allow him
to remain in continued and unalterable gloom and melancholy, yet in
solitude, and on the slightest accident, his distress returned, and
he despaired of the possibility of ever retrieving his lost
happiness. Had it not been for hi