letter from my wife, containing the melancholy intelligence of her lovely sister Eleanora's death.
"I could not hesitate a moment about returning to her directly; yet at the instant I determined on doing so, my heart was almost divided between her and my brother, who was seized with a violent fever the very day on which I heard from her.
"I will not pain your gentle soul, my Madeline, by describing the situation in which I found your mother, or relating the numerous train of calamities that followed the death of her sister; it is sufficient for me to say that within a few months after her decease I lost my brother and my wife.
"Ah, heavens! even at this distant period I shudder at the recollection of the excruciating anguish I endured on being deprived of friends so beloved. The world seemed a blank, and nothing but religion and tenderness for you could have prevented my quitting it; nor has time done more than appease the
