140 
you, my dear father, though the awful 
_moment draws nigh which is to separate 
me from the world for ever, I feel no 
uneasy moments, no disagreeable sen- 
sations, or unpleasant alarms in any re- 
spect. I attribute it to my reliance on 
our blessed Lord and Saviour, added to 
a consciousness that, however fatal-the 
difference may have been (though I 
knew nothing of it at its commence- 
ment), if I had not taken an active part 
in it, the consequences would have been, 
ten times more dreadful. The world 
does not entertain that idea of me which 
I deserve from them; but I trust that 
time, in God’s good time, will clear up 
my character, which is dearer to me than 
my life. . I am greatly obliged to you, my 
dear father, for the liberal education 
you gave me, and for the love and kind- 
ness you have extended to me this day 
from my infancy. I beg you will not be 
sorry for me, as for a person without 
hope, as I can assure you, my dear 
father, Iam full of hope, with a thorough 
reliance on my Creator, that he will 
strengthen me at my last moment to 
Meet the death allotted to me with true 
Christian fortitude. 
I hope, my dear father, that dear wo- 
man whom J had the happiness to be 
wedded to, will know that I am no more 
become yours, and the family’s care forget 
me in her, and let her be your particular 
care. I am sure she is, dear creature, 
worthy of any kindness you can possibly 
shew her. Oh, sir! if I had but time to 
enumerate her virtues and love for me:— 
but I need not, for you must, during the 
last seven months’ visit we paid you, have 
observed how dear I was to her. My 
dear father, I have done what I am con- 
vinced you will approve of: namely— 
made my will, and left her my sole ex- 
ecutrix. Dear creature, I wish I had 
more than will ever descend from me to 
her to put her in possession of.—My 
dear, dear father, may God Almighty 
bless you: May your ed be with tran- 
quillity and repose, and may we meet:in 
the endless bliss of everlasting happiness, 
is the prayer of—Dear father, your duti- 
full, much embarrassed son, 
. RicHarp Parker. 
P. S.—I request my brother, Mrs. 
Parker’s sister, and all the family will 
receive comfort from you. I beg my 
love to them, Mrs. Honour, your house- 
keeper, and all friends. Ry P. 
—>__ 
Remains of eminent Persons. 
[Sept. 1, 
LADY MABRY WORTLEY MONTAGUE. 
[These letters were written by Lady Mary Wortley 
Montague, to her friend Lady Margaret Creighton, 
Auntof Lord London, one of whose answers ts algo 
given.—T hey were written, as appears, some nie 
time previous to’ Lady Mary’s elopement with 
Mr. Wortley.] : 
LETTER I. 
To the Right Honourable Lady Mary 
Creichton, at the Earl of London’s, in 
the Privy Garden, Whitehall. 
Wuar answer is to be’ made to a let- 
ter like yours? I can say no new ex- 
pressions of gratitude to answer to per- 
petual new obligations. Why was you so 
scrupulous ? Why, with so much reluc- 
tancy, give me a pleasure that. could 
be allayed by nothing but that relic- 
tancy? Think yourselfe obliged me, 
that I check the violent inclination that 
I have to praise you. Why will you not 
permit me to say (I could not say how 
much) I esteem and value you?—Tis 
now candle light; my eyes hardly suffer 
me to see what I write; but yet, I can- 
not (if I had not promised it), I cannot 
forbear writeing. I will no longer, since 
you have the goodnesse to hear them, 
the indulgence to excuse, and’the soft- 
nesse to pity, make any scrupell of enter- 
taining you with every thought of mine, 
however extravagant or even faulty it 
might appear to the rest of the world. 
In you I dare confide every. thing : 
your partial friendship will excuse it to 
yourselfe, and your fidelity conceal it 
from others. 
The partial men, unto our sex unjust, 
Call us unfit for friendship or for trust ; 
Misled by them, by sad experience’ taught, 
How few can love as truly as they ought ! 
All prudes the ugly, and coquette the fair, 
I thought the sex unworthy of my care. 
Their credit lost how nobly you redeem, - 
And show a woman that deserves esteem. 
You kindly pity where you must condemn, 
The sad effect of an unhappy flame. 
No prudent airs (the vain pretence of pride) 
Reproves my weakness, or my pains deride ; 
You know (and knowing that your pity 
moves), ‘ 
No crime avoidless like resistlesse love. 
But love is not the sin that they reprove,— 
It is the placing of my wretclied love : 
A shining chariot and a booby duke, 
A love so worthy had not met rebuke. 
Just gods, why, see not others as I see ! 
Or why was all his charms disclosed to me ? 
Why is the world so stupid and so dull, 
Or I not pleased with every titled fool ? 
LETTER IT. 
You do me wrong supposing T should 
be displeased at your letter; I find no- 
thing in it but an occasion of thanks. 
Amongst my many faults, [have not SEE 
o 
