so kind as those few simple ones?  In fact, I have for some time seen how little you mean it; and, for your sakes, I cease to desire it.  The pleasure you expressed at seeing Florence again, forgive me for saying, is the joy of sight merely; for can a little Italian town, and wretched Italian company, and travelling English lads and governors, be comparable to the choice of the best company of so vast a capital as London, unless you have taken an aversion to England?  And your renewed transports at a less and still more insipid town, Pisa!  These plainly told me your thoughts, which vague words cannot efface.  You then dropped that you could let your London house till next Christmas, and then talked of a visit to Switzerland, and since all this, Mrs. Damer has warned me not to expect you till next Spring.  I shall not; nor do I expect that next spring.  I have little expected this next!  My dearest Madam, I allow all my folly and Unreasonableness, and give them up and abandon them totally.  I have most impertinently and absurdly tried, for my own sake merely, to exact from two young ladies, above forty years younger than myself, a promise of sacrificing their rooted inclinations to my whims and satisfaction.  But my eyes are opened, my reason is returned, I condemn myself; and I now make you but one request, which is, that, though I am convinced it would be with the most friendly and good-natured meaning possible, I do implore you not to try to help me to delude myself any more.  You never know half the shock it gave me when I learned from Mr. Batt, what you had concealed from me, your fixed resolution of going abroad last October; and though I did in vain deprecate it,—­your coming to Twickenham in September, which I know, and from my inmost soul believe, was from mere compassion and kindness to me,-yet it did aggravate my parting with you.

I would not repeat all this, but to prevail with you, While I do live, and while you do condescend to have any friendship for me, never to let me deceive myself.  I have no right to inquire into your plans, views or designs; and never will question you more about them.  I shall deserve to be deluded if I do; but what you do please to say to me, I beg may be frank.  I am, in every light, too weak to stand disappointment ow:  I cannot be disappointed.  You have a firmness that nothing shakes; and, therefore, it would be unjust to betray your good-nature into any degree of insincerity.  You do nothing that is not reasonable and right; and I am conscious that you bore a thousand times more from my self-love and vanity, than any other two persons but yourselves would have supported with patience so long.  Be assured that what I say I think, feel, and mean; derange none of your plans for me.  I now wish you take no one step but What is conformable to your views, interest and satisfaction.  It would hurt me to interfere with them -.  I reproach myself with having so ungenerously tried to lay you under any