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in prospects and situation much resembles it. I 

 went from thence to York ; the minster there every- 

 body has heard of, and all who see it must admire. 

 Castle Howard, Lord Carlisle's, was the next ; — all 

 these places are so splendid, one is apt to think the 

 last the finest. This place terminated the excursion, 

 and I returned here. 



Yours, 



A. Caldwell. 



From the same. 



My dear Friend, Dublin, Oct. 21, 1803. 



It was a great misfortune not to be able to meet 

 you at Liverpool ; and when I heard you had left it, 

 I at once abandoned all thoughts of going there this 

 year. 



So soon to be deprived of your amiable friend, 

 and your future schemes of intercourse blasted, is 

 melancholy. The frequent losses of those we love 

 is the great evil of life : every other misfortune in 

 my estimation sinks before it. I experienced a se- 

 vere stroke of this kind but little more than a twelve- 

 month since ; a friendship of more than thirty years 

 was then terminated. What a blank it has occa- 

 sioned ! Such inflexible virtue, so much good sense 

 and information are rarely met with. There was 

 that intimacy, that in his society we might each of 

 us be said to be thinking aloud. His name was 

 Mangin, of one of the French Huguenot families. 

 He had been for many years first clerk in the se- 

 cretary of state's office in the Castle ; but from ill 

 health, much increased by unremitting application 



