You, madam, will have a great loss; a greater than is common in the loss of a parent.  Fill your mind with hope of her happiness, and turn your thoughts first to him who gives and takes away, in whose presence the living and dead are standing together.  Then remember, that when this mournful duty is paid, others yet remain of equal obligation, and, we may hope, of less painful performance.  Grief is a species of idleness, and the necessity of attention to the present preserves us, by the merciful disposition of providence, from being lacerated and devoured by sorrow for the past.  You must think on your husband and your children, and do what this dear lady has done for you.

Not to come to town while the great struggle continues is, undoubtedly, well resolved.  But do not harass yourself into danger; you owe the care of your health to all that love you, at least to all whom it is your duty to love.  You cannot give such a mother too much, if you do not give her what belongs to another.  I am, &c.

XIV.—­To MRS. THRALE.

April 27, 1773.

DEAR MADAM,—­Hope is more pleasing than fear, but not less fallacious; you know, when you do not try to deceive yourself, that the disease, which at last is to destroy, must be gradually growing worse, and that it is vain to wish for more than, that the descent to death may be slow and easy.  In this wish I join with you, and hope it will be granted.  Dear, dear lady, whenever she is lost she will be missed, and whenever she is remembered she will be lamented.  Is it a good or an evil to me, that she now loves me?  It is surely a good; for you will love me better, and we shall have a new principle of concord; and I shall be happier with honest sorrow, than with sullen indifference:  and far happier still than with counterfeited sympathy.

I am reasoning upon a principle very far from certain, a confidence of survivance.  You or I, or both, may be called into the presence of the supreme judge before her.  I have lived a life of which I do not like the review.  Surely I shall, in time, live better.

I sat down with an intention to write high compliments; but my thoughts have taken another course, and some other time must now serve to tell you with what other emotions, benevolence, and fidelity, I am, &c.

XV.—­To THE SAME.

May 17, 1773.

MADAM,—­Never imagine that your letters are long; they are always too short for my curiosity.  I do not know that I was ever content with a single perusal.

Of dear Mrs. Salusbury I never expect much better news than you send me; de pis en pis is the natural and certain course of her dreadful malady.  I am content, when it leaves her ease enough for the exercise of her mind.  Why should Mr. **** suppose, that what I took the liberty of suggesting, was concerted with you?  He does not know how much I revolve his affairs, and how honestly I desire his prosperity.  I hope he has let the hint take some hold of his mind.