family.-Unhappy! very unhappy! said the Bishop. Let us give you some refreshment, before we come to particulars.

To my repeated inquiries, Jeronymo, poor Jeronymo! said the Bishop, is living, and that is all we can say. The sight of you will be a cordial to his heart. Clementina is on her journey to Bologna from Naples. You desired to find her with us, and not at Naples. She is weak; is obliged to travel slowly. She will rest at Urbino two or three days. Dear creature! What has she not suffered from the cruelty of her cousin Laurana, as well as from her malady! The General has been, and is, indulgent to her. He is married to a lady of great merit, quality, and fortune. He has, at length, consented that we shall try this last experiment, as the hearts of my mother, and now lately of my father, as well as mine, are in it. His lady would not be denied accompanying my sister; and as my brother could not bear being absent from her, he travels with them. I wish he had staid at Naples. I hope, however, he will be as ready, as you will find us all, to acknowledge the favour of this visit, and the fatigue and trouble you have given yourself on our account.

As to my sister's bodily health, proceeded he, it is greatly impaired. We are almost hopeless, with regard to the state of her mind. She speaks not; she answers not any questions. Camilla is with her. She seems regardless of anybody else. She has been told, that the General is married. His lady makes great court to her; but she heeds her not. We are in hopes, that my mother, on her return to Bologna, will engage her attention. She never yet was so ill as to forget her duty either to God or her parents. Sometimes Camilla thinks she pays some little attention to your name; but then she instantly starts as in terror; looks round her with fear; puts her finger to her lips, as if she dreaded her cruel cousin Laurana should be told of her having heard it mentioned.

The Bishop and Father both regretted that she had been denied the requested interview. They were now, they said, convinced, that if that had been granted, and she had been left to Mrs Beaumont's friendly care, a happy issue might have been hoped for: But now, said the Bishop-Then sighed, and was silent.

I dispatched Saunders, early the next morning, to Bologna, to procure convenient lodgings for me and Mr Lowther.

In the afternoon we set out for that city. The Count of Belvedere found an opportunity to let me know his unabated passion for Clementina, and that he had lately made overtures to marry her, notwithstanding her malady; having been advised, he said, by proper persons, that as it was not an hereditary, but an accidental disorder, it might be, in time, curable. He accompanied us about half way on our journey; and, at parting, Remember, chevalier, whispered he,

that Clementina is the soul of my hope: I caнnot forego that hope. No other woman will I ever call mine.

I heard him in silence: I admired him for his attachment: I pitied him. He said, he would tell me more of his mind at Bologna.

We reached Bologna on the 15th, N. S. Saunders had engaged for me the lodgings I had before.

Our conversation on the road turned chiefly on the case of Signor Jeronymo. The Bishop and Father were highly pleased with the skill, founded on practice, which evidently appeared in all that Mr Lowther said on the subject: and the Bishop once intimated, that, be the event what it would, his journey to Italy should be made the most beneficial affair to him he had ever engaged in. Mr Lowther replied, that as he was neither a necessitous nor a mean-spirited man, and had reason to be entirely satisfied with the terms I had already secured to him, he should take it unkindly, if any other reward were offered him.

Think, my dear Dr Bartlett, what emotions I must have on entering, once more, the gates of the Porretta palace, though Clementina was not there.

I hastened up to my Jeronymo, who had been apprized of my arrival. The moment he saw me, Do I once more, said he, behold my friend, my Grandison? Let me embrace the dearest of men. Now, now, have I lived long enough. He bowed his head upon his pillow, and meditated me; his countenance shining with pleasure in defiance of pain.

The Bishop entered: he could not be present at our first interview.

My lord, said Jeronymo, make it your care that my dear friend be treated, by every soul of our family, with the gratitude and respect which are due to his goodness. Methinks I am easier and happier, this moment, than I have been for the tedious space of time since I last saw him. He named that space of time to the day, and to the very hour of the day.

The Marquis and Marchioness signifying their pleasure to see me, the Bishop led me to them. My reception from the Marquis was kind; from his lady it was as that of a mother to a long-absent son. I had ever been, she was pleased to say, a fourth son in her eye; and now, that she had been informed that I had brought over with me a surgeon of experience, and the advice in writing of eminent physicians of my country, the obligations I had laid on their whole family, whatever were the success, were unreturnable.

I asked leave to introduce Mr Lowther to them. They received him with great politeness, and recommended their Jeronymo to his best skill. Mr Lowther's honest heart was engaged, by a reception so kind. He never, he told me afterwards, beheld so much pleasure and pain

struggling in the same countenance, as in that of the lady; so fixed a melancholy, as in that of the Marquis.

Mr Lowther is a man of spirit, though a modest man. He is, as on every proper occasion I found, a man of piety, and has a heart tender as manly. Such a man, heart and hand, is qualified for a profession which is the most useful and certain in the art of healing. He is a man of sense and learning out of his profession, and happy in his address.

The two surgeons who now attend Signor Jeronymo, are both of this country. They were sent for. With the approbation, and at the request of the family, I presented Mr Lowther to them; but first gave them his character, as a modest man, as a man of skill and experience; and told them, that he had quitted business, and wanted not either fame or fortune.

They acquainted him with the case, and their methods of proceeding. Mr Lowther assisted in the dressings that very evening. Jeronymo would have me to be present. Mr Lowther suggested an alteration in their method, but in so easy and gentle a manner, (as if he doubted not, but such was their intention when the state of the wounds would admit of that method of treatment,) that the gentlemen came readily into it. A great deal of matter had been collected, by means of the wrong methods pursued; and he proposed, if the patient's strength would bear it, to make an aperture below the principal wound, in order to discharge the matter downward; and he suggested the dressing with hollow tents and bandage, and to dismiss the large tents with which they had been accustomed to distend the wound, to the extreme anguish of the patient, on pretence of keeping it open, to assist the discharge.

Let me now give you, my dear friend, a brief history of my Jeronymo's case, and of the circumstances which have attended it; by which you

will be able to account for the difficulties of it, and how it has happened, that, in such a space of time, either the cure was not effected, or that the patient yielded not to the common destiny.

In lingering cases, patients or their friends are sometimes too apt to blame their physicians, and to listen to new recommendations. The surgeons attending this unhappy case, had been more than once changed. Signor Jeronymo, it seems, was unskilfully treated by the young surgeon of Cremona, who was first engaged: he neglected the most dangerous wound; and, when he attended to it, managed it wrong, for want of experience. He was, therefore, very properly dismissed.

The unhappy man had at first three wounds: one in his breast, which had been for some time healed; one in his shoulder, which, through his own impatience, having been too suddenly healed up, was obliged to be laid open again: the

other, which is the most dangerous, in the hipjoint.

A surgeon of this place, and another at Padua, were next employed. The cure not advancing, a surgeon of eminence, from Paris, was sent for.

Mr Lowther tells me, that this man's method was by far the most eligible; but that he undertook too much; since, from the first, there could not be any hope, from the nature of the wound in the hip-joint, that the patient could ever walk, without sticks or crutches: and of this opinion were the other two surgeons: but the French gentleman was so very pragmatical, that he would neither draw with them, nor give reasons for what he did; regarding them only as his assistants. They could not long bear this usage, and gave up to him in disgust. How cruel is punctilio, among men of this science, in cases of difficulty and danger!

The present operators, when the two others had given up, were not, but by leave of the French gentleman, called in. He valuing himself on his practice in the Royal Hospital of Invalids at Paris, looked upon them as theorists only; and treated them with as little ceremony as he had shewn the others; so that at last, from their frequent differences, it became necessary to part with either him or them.

His pride, when he knew that this question was a subject of debate, would not allow him to leave the family an option. He made his demand: it was complied with; and he returned to Paris.

From what this gentleman threw out at parting, to the disparagement of the two others, Signor Jeronymo suspected their skill; and from a hint of this suspicion, as soon as I knew I should be welcome myself, I procured the favour of Mr Lowther's attendance.

All Mr Lowther's fear is, that Signor Jeronymo has been kept too long in hand by the different managements of the several operators; and that he will sink under the necessary process, through weakness of habit. But, however, he is of opinion, that it is requisite to confine him to strict diet, and to deny him wine and fermented liquors, in which he has hitherto been indulged, against the opinion of his own operators, who have been too complaisant to his appetite.

An operation somewhat severe was performed on his shoulder yesterday morning. The Italian surgeons complimented Mr Lowther with the lancet. They both praised his dexterity; and Signor Jeronymo, who will be consulted on everything that he is to suffer, blessed his gentle hand.

At Mr Lowther's request, a physician was yesterday consulted; who advised some gentle aperitives, as his strength will bear it; and some balsamics, to sweeten the blood and juices.

Mr Lowther told me just now, that the fault of the gentlemen who have now the care of him, has not been want of skill, but of critical cou

rage, and a too great solicitude to oblige their patient; which, by their own account, had made them forego several opportunities which had offered to assist nature. In short, sir, said he, your friend knows too much of his own case to be ruled, and too little to qualify him to direct what is to be done, especially as symptoms must have been frequently changing.

Mr Lowther doubts not, he says, but he shall soon convince Jeronymo that he merits his confidence, and then he will exact it from him; and, in so doing, shall not only give weight to his own endeavours to serve him, but rid the other two gentlemen of embarrassments which have often given them diffidences, when resolution was necessary.

In the meantime the family here are delighted with Mr Lowther. They will flatter themselves, they say, with hopes of their Jeronymo's recovery; which, however, Mr Lowther, for fear of disappointment, does not encourage. Jeronymo himself owns, that his spirits are much revived; and we all know the power that the mind has over the body.

Thus have I given you, my reverend friend, a general notion of Jeronymo's case, as I understand it from Mr Lowther's as general representation

of it.

He has been prevailed upon to accept an apartment adjoining to that of his patient. Jeronymo says, that when he knows he has so skilful a friend near him, he shall go to rest with confidence; and good rest is of the highest consequence to him.

What a happiness, my dear Dr Bartlett, will fall to my share, if I may be an humble instrument, in the hand of Providence, to heal this brother; and if his recovery shall lead the way to the restoration of his sister; each so known a lover of the other, that the world is more ready to attribute her malady to his misfortunes and danger, than to any other cause! But how early days are these, on which my love and my compassion for persons so meritorious, emboldened me to build such forward hopes!

Lady Clementina is now impatiently expected by every one. She is at Urbino. The General and his lady are with her. His haughty spirit cannot bear to think she should see me, or that my attendance on her should be thought of so much importance to her.

The Marchioness, in a conversation that I have just now had with her, hinted this to me, and besought me to keep my temper, if his high notion of family and female honour should carry him out of his usual politeness.

I will give you, my dear friend, the particulars of this conversation.

She began with saying, that she did not, for her part, now think, that her beloved daughter, whom once she believed hardly any private man could deserve, was worthy of me, even were she to recover her reason.

I could not but guess the meaning of so high a compliment. What answer could I return that would not, on one hand, be capable of being thought cool; on the other, of being supposed interested; and as if I were looking forward to a reward that some of the family still think too high? But, while I knew my own motives, I could not be displeased with a lady who was not at liberty to act, in this point, according to her own will.

I only said, (and it was with truth,) That the calamity of the noble lady had endeared her to me more, than it was possible the most prosperous fortune could have done.

I, my good chevalier, may say anything to you. We are undetermined about everything. We know not what to propose, what to consent to. Your journey, on the first motion, though but from some of us; the dear creature continuing ill; you in possession of a considerable estate, exercising yourself in doing good in your native country; You must think we took all opportunities of inquiring after the man once so likely to be one of us; the first fortune in Italy, Olivia, though she is not a Clementina, pursuing you, in hopes of calling herself yours; (for to England we hear she went, and there you own she is ;) What obligations have you laid upon us!-What can we determine upon? What can we wish?

Providence and you, madam, shall direct my steps. I am in your and your lord's power. The same uncertainty, from the same unhappy cause, leaves me not the thought, because not the power, of determination. The recovery of Lady Clementina and her brother, without a view to my own interest, fills up at present all the wishes of my heart.

Let me ask, said the lady, (it is for my own private satisfaction,) Were such a happy event, as to Clementina, to take place, could you, would you, think yourself bound by your former offers?

When I made those offers, madam, the situation on your side was the same that it is now : Lady Clementina was unhappy in her mind. My fortune, it is true, is higher: it is, indeed, as high as I wish it to be. I then declared, that if you would give me your Clementina, without insisting on one hard, on one indispensable article, I would renounce her fortune, and trust to my father's goodness to me for a provision. Shall my accession to the estate of my ancestors alter me?—No, madam: I never yet made an offer that I receded from, the circumstances continuing the same. If, in the article of residence, the Marquis, and you, and Clementina, would relax ; I would acknowledge myself indebted to your goodness; but without conditioning for it.

I told you, said she, that I put this question only for my own private satisfaction; and I told you truth. I never will deceive or mislead you. Whenever I speak to you, it shall be as if, even

in your own concerns, I spoke to a third person; and I shall not doubt but you will have the generosity to advise, as such, though against your self.

May I be enabled to act worthy of your good opinion! I, madam, look upon myself as bound; you and yours are free.

What a pleasure is it, my dear Dr Bartlett, to the proud heart of your friend, that I could say this?-Had I sought, in pursuance of my own inclinations, to engage the affections of the admirable Miss Byron, as I might with honour have endeavoured to do, had not the woes of this noble family, and the unhappy state of mind of their Clementina, so deeply affected me; I might have involved myself, and that loveliest of women, in difficulties which would have made such a heart as mine still more unhappy than it is.

Let me know, my dear Dr Bartlett, that Miss Byron is happy. I rejoice, whatever be my own destiny, that I have not involved her in my uncertainties. The Countess of D is a worthy woman: the Earl, her son, is a good young man: Miss Byron merits such a mother; the Countess such a daughter. How dear, how important, is her welfare to me!-You know your Grandison, my good Dr Bartlett. Her friendship I presumed to ask: I dared not to wish to correspond with her. I rejoice, for her sake, that I trusted not my heart with such a proposal. What difficulties, my dear friend, have I had to encounter with!-God be praised, that I have nothing, with regard to these two incomparable women, to reproach myself with. I am persuaded that our prudence, if rashly we throw not ourselves into difficulties, and if we will exert it, and make a reliance on the proper assistance, is generally proportioned to our trials.

I asked the Marchioness after Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana; and whether they were at Milan ?

You have heard, no doubt, answered she, the cruel treatment that my poor child met with from her cousin Laurana. Lady Sforza justifies her in it. We are upon extreme bad terms, on that account. They are both at Milan. The General has vowed, that he never will see them more, if he can avoid it. The Bishop, only as a Christian, can forgive them. You, chevalier, know the reason why we cannot allow our Clementina to take the veil.

The particular reasons I have not, madam, been inquisitive about; but have always understood them to be family ones, grounded on the dying request of one of her grandfathers.

Our daughter, sir, is entitled to a considerable estate which joins to our own domains. It was purchased for her by her two grandfathers, who vied with each other in demonstrating their love of her by solid effects. One of them (my father) was, in his youth, deeply in love with a young lady of great merit; and she was thought to love him: but, in a fit of pious bravery, as he used

to call it, when everything between themselves, and between the friends on both sides, was concluded on, she threw herself into a convent; and, passing steadily through the probationary forms, took the veil; but afterwards repented, and took pains to let it be known that she was unhappy. This gave him a disgust against the sequestered life, though he was, in other respects, a zealous Catholic. And Clementina having always a serious turn; in order to deter her from embracing it, (both grandfathers being desirous of strengthening their house, as well in the female as male line,) they inserted a clause in each of their wills, by which they gave the estate designed for her, in case she took the veil, to Laurana, and her descendants; Laurana to enter into possession of it on the day that Clementina should be professed. But if Clementina married, Laurana was then to be entitled only to a handsome legacy, that she might not be entirely disappointed; for the reversion, in case Clementina had no children, was to go to our eldest son; who, however, has been always generously solicitous to have his sister marry.

Both grandfathers were rich. Our son Giacomo, on my father's death, as he had willed, entered upon a considerable estate in the kingdom of Naples, which had for ages been in my family; he is, therefore, and will be, greatly provided for. Our second son has great prospects before him, in the church; but you know he cannot marry. Poor Jeronymo ! We had not, before his misfortune, any great hopes of strengthening the family by his means. He, alas! (as you well know, who took such laudable pains to reclaim him, before we knew you,) with great qualities, imbibed free notions from bad

company, and declared himself a despiser of marriage. This the two grandfathers knew, and often deplored; for Jeronymo and Clementina were equally their favourites. To him and the Bishop they bequeathed great legacies.

We suspected not, till very lately, that Laurana was deeply in love with the Count of Belvedere; and that her mother and she had views to drive our sweet child into a convent, that Laurana might enjoy the estate; which they hoped would be an inducement to the Count to marry her. Cruel Laurana! cruel Lady Sforza! So much love as they both pretended to our child; and, I believe, had, till the temptation, strengthened by power, became too strong for them. Unhappy the day that we put her into their hands.

Besides the estate so bequeathed to Clementina, we can do great things for her. Few Italian families are so rich as ours. Her brothers forget their own interest, when it comes into competition with hers: she is as generous as they. Our four children never knew what a contention was, but who should give up an advantage to the other. This child, this sweet child, was ever the delight of us all, and like