University of Virginia Library

LETTER I.

An unusual sensation possesses my
breast; a sensation, which I once thought
could never pervade it on any occasion whatever.
It is pleasure; pleasure, my dear Lucy,
on leaving my paternal roof! Could you have
believed that the darling child of an indulgent
and dearly beloved mother would feel a gleam
of joy at leaving her? but so it is. The melancholy,
the gloom, the condolence, which surrounded
me for a month after the death of
Mr. Haly, had depressed my spirits, and palled
every enjoyment of life. Mr. Haly was a man
of worth; a man of real and substantial merit.
He is therefore deeply, and justly regreted by
his friends; he was chosen to be a future guardian,

and companion for me, and was, therefore,
beloved by mine. As their choice; as a good
man, and a faithful friend, I esteemed him. But
no one acquainted with the disparity of our
tempers and dispositions, our views and designs,
can suppose my heart much engaged in
the alliance. Both nature and education had
instilled into my mind an implicit obedience to
the will and desires of my parents. To them,
of course, I sacrificed my fancy in this affair;
determined that my reason should coucur with
theirs; and on that to risk my future happiness.
I was the more encouraged, as I saw, from our
first acquaintance, his declining health; and
expected, that the event would prove as it has.
Think not, however, that I rejoice in his death.
No; far be it from me; for though I believe
that I never felt the passion of love for Mr.
Haly; yet a habit of conversing with him,
of hearing daily the most virtuous, tender,
and affectionate sentiments from his lips, inspired
emotions of the sincerest friendship, and
esteem.

He is gone. His fate is unalterably, and I
trust, happily fixed. He lived the life, and died
the death of the righteous. O that my last
end may be like his! This event will, I hope,
make a suitable and abiding impression upon
my mind; teach me the fading nature of all
sublunary enjoyments, and the little dependence
which is to be placed on earthly felicity.
Whose situation was more agreeable; whose

prospects more flattering, than Mr. Haly's?
Social, domestic, and connubial joys were
fondly anticipated, and friends, and fortune
seemed ready to crown every wish! Yet animated
by still brighter hopes, he cheerfully bid
them all adieu. In conversation with me, but
a few days before his exit; “There is” said
he, “but one link in the chain of life, undissevered;
that, my dear Eliza, is my attachment
to you. But God is wife and good in all
his ways; and in this, as in all other respects,
I would cheerfully say, His will be done.”

You, my friend, were witness to the concluding
scene; and therefore, I need not describe
it.

I shall only add, on the subject, that if I have
wisdom and prudence to follow his advice and
example; if his prayers for my temporal and
eternal welfare be heard and answered, I shall
be happy indeed.

The disposition of mind, which I now feel,
I wish to cultivate. Calm, placid, and serene;
thoughtful of my duty, and benevolent to all
around me, I wish for no other connection than
that of friendship.

This Letter is all egotism, I have even neglected
to mention the respectable, and happy
friends, with whom I reside; but will do it in
my next. Write soon, and often; and believe
me sincerely yours,