University of Virginia Library

By her desire, in conjunction with my own
inclination, I inform you that Harriot Henly is
no more—Yesterday she gave her hand, and
renounced her name together; threw aside the
sprightly girl we have been so long accustomed
to admire, and substituted in her place the dignified
and respectable head of a family, in Mrs.
Farmington.

Have I not lost my amiable friend and associate?
Will not her change of situation tend to
lessen our intercourse, and to alienate our affections?

When I contemplate the social circle, so firmly
cemented in the bands of friendship, at the
boarding school, where the most perfect harmony,
ease and satisfaction presided, I recoil at
the idea of becoming less dear, less interesting,
and less necessary to each other. It is with the
utmost reluctance that I admit the idea of rivals
to that affection and benevolence which we have,
so long, and so sincerely interchanged.

The charm however is broken. Harriot is already
married; and my friends are extremely solicitous
that I should follow her example. But
in a connexion which requires so many precautions

before it is formed, and such uninterrupted
circumspection and prudence afterwards;
the great uncertainty of the event inspires me
with timidity and apprehension.

Harriot put into my hands, and I read with
pleasure, the book which you recommended to
her on the subject. But still we wished for your
instruction and advice. The sentiments of a
person so dear and interesting to us, are particularly
calculated to engage our attention, and influence
our conduct. Relying, too, on your
judgment and experience, your forming pen may
render us more worthy objects of attachment.

We, however, unite in assuring you of our
gratitude for all past favours; and in presenting
our sincere regards to the young ladies.

I am, with great respect, your affectionate
and grateful