“Bath, Nov. 30th, 1783.—­Sophia will live and do well; I have saved my daughter, perhaps obtained a friend.  They are weary of seeing me suffer so, and the eldest beg’d me yesterday not to sacrifice my life to her convenience.  She now saw my love of Piozzi was incurable, she said.  Absence had no effect on it, and my health was going so fast she found that I should soon be useless either to her or him.  It was the hand of God and irresistible, she added, and begged me not to endure any longer such unnecessary misery.

“So now we may be happy if we will, and now I trust some [(sic) query “no?”] other cross accident will start up to torment us; I wrote my lover word that he might come and fetch me, but the Alps are covered with snow, and if his prudence is not greater than his affection—­my life will yet be lost, for it depends on his safety.  Should he come at my call, and meet with any misfortune on the road ... death, with accumulated agonies, would end me.  May Heaven avert such insupportable distress!”

“Dec. 1783.—­My dearest Piozzi’s Miss Chanon is in distress.  I will send her 10_l_.  Perhaps he loved her; perhaps she loved him; perhaps both; yet I have and will have confidence in his honour.  I will not suffer love or jealousy to narrow a heart devoted to him.  He would assist her if he were in England, and she shall not suffer for his absence, tho’ I do.  She and her father have reported many things to my prejudice; she will be ashamed of herself when she sees me forgive and assist her.  O Lord, give me grace so to return good for evil as to obtain thy gracious favour who died to procure the salvation of thy professed enemies.  ’Tis a good Xmas work!”

“Bath, Jan. 27th, 1784.—­On this day twelvemonths ... oh dreadfullest of all days to me I did I send for my Piozzi and tell him we must part.  The sight of my countenance terrified Dr. Pepys, to whom I went into the parlour for a moment, and the sight of the agonies I endured in the week following would have affected anything but interest, avarice, and pride personified, ... with such, however, I had to deal, so my sorrows were unregarded.  Seeing them continue for a whole year, indeed, has mollified my strong-hearted companions, and they now relent in earnest and wish me happy:  I would now therefore be loath to dye, yet how shall I recruit my constitution so as to live?  The pardon certainly did arrive the very instant of execution—­for I was ill beyond all power of description, when my eldest daughter, bursting into tears, bid me call home the man of my heart, and not expire by slow torture in the presence of my children, who had my life in their power.  ‘You are dying now,’ said she.  ’I know it,’ replied I, ’and I should die in peace had I but seen him once again.’  ‘Oh send for him,’ said she, ‘send for him quickly!’ ‘He is at Milan, child,’ replied I, ‘a thousand