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Memoirs of

ber of points to fill up the paper; but a letter that has matter in it should be written with a distinct narration of the business, and that's all. Do you think such people as Mr. Pitt or Lord Chatham, my grandfather, liked those nonsensical phrases? No, they threw the letter aside, or else cast their eyes over it to see if, on the other page, there was anything to answer about."

February 19.—I was riding this morning with my family beyond the village, which is separated by a deep valley from Lady Hester's residence, when I saw two servants on the verge of the opposite hill, vociferating—"Come directly, come instantly!" and waving their white turbans. I reflected that, if I put my horse into a gallop, the people of the village would immediately conclude that Lady Hester was dying; and the news (as news always gains by distance) would be the next day at Sayda that she was dead: I therefore continued the same pace; and, although the servants redoubled their signs and cries, I steadily retraced my steps. When I had dismounted, I was told her ladyship was in a deplorable way, unlike any thing they had ever seen. I hurried to her bed-room. She was sitting on the side of her bed, weeping and uttering those extraordinary cries, which I have before compared to something hardly human. She clasped her hands and exclaimed repeatedly, "Oh God! oh, God! what