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of the hero;thofe times when the approach of danger filled his heart with exultation, and gave vigour to his nerves-when the moon fhone upon his bark, laden with the spoils of his enemies, and lighted up his triumph-when I read in his countenance his deep forrow-when I fee his finking glory tottering towards the grave-when he cafts a look on the cold earth which is to cover him, and cries out, "The traveller will come, he will come who has feen my beauty, and he will afk, where is the bard, where is the illuftrious fon of Fingal? he will walk over my tomb, and he will feek me

I

in vain !"-Then, O my friend! I could instantly, like a true and noble knight, draw my sword, and rescue my prince from long and painful languor, and afterwards plunge it into my own breaft, to follow the demi-god whom my hand fet free.

A

LETTER LXII.

October 19.

LAS! the void, the fearful void

I feel in my bofom-Some

times I think, if I could but once,

only once prefs her to my heart, I

fhould be happy.

F 4

LET.

LETTER LXIII.

26th October.

I

AM convinced, my dear friend,

more and more convinced, that the exiftence of any one being whatever is of little, very little confequence. A friend of Charlotte's came just now to make her a vifit: I withdrew, and took up a book in the next room; but I could not read, and therefore I write to you. I hear their converfation: they are only talking of the news of the town; one is going to be married, another is ill, very ill." She has a dry cough and frequent faintings; fhe cannot

recover,

recover," fays one. "N. is very ill too," fays Charlotte. "He begins to fwell already," anfwers the other: And my imagination fuddenly carries me to their fick beds; I see them ftruggling against approaching death, in all the agonies of pain and horror. I fee them-And these good little women are talking of it with the fame indifference that one would mention the death of a ftranger.And when I look at the apartment in which I now am, when I see Charlotte's apparel lying round me; here upon this little table are her earrings, Albert's papers, all the things which are fo familiar to me, the very

inkstand

inkstand I now ufe; and that I think what I am to this family every thing my friends efteem me, are

made happy by me, and my heart cannot conceive that any thing could exist without them; and yet if I was now to go, if I was to quit this circle, would they feel, how long would they feel that void in their life, which the lofs of me would leave? How long yes, fuch is the frailty of man, that there where he most feels his own existence, where his prefence makes a real and a strong impreffion, even in the memory of those who are dear to him; there also he must perish and vanish away, and

that fo quickly!

LETTER

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