It is certain that Mr. Trueworth, at the time of his writing his last letter to Miss Betsy, was fully determined to go into the country; and was already beginning to make such preparations as he found necessary for his journey, when an accident of a very singular nature put a sudden stop to them, and to his intentions.

He was one day just dressed, and going out, in order to dine with some company, (for he now chose to be as little alone as possible) when one of his servants delivered a letter to him, which he said was brought by a porter, who waited below for an answer. As the superscription was in a woman's hand, and he was not accustomed to receive any billets from that sex, he broke it open with a kind of greedy curiosity, and found in it these lines.

'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.

Sir,

I am a woman of fortune, family, and an unblemished character; very young, and, most people allow, not disagreeable: you have done me the greatest injury in the world without knowing it; but I take you to be more a man of honour than not to be willing to make what reparation is in your power. If the good opinion I have of you does not deceive me, you will readily accept this challenge, and not fail to meet me about eleven o'clock in the morning, at General Tatten's bench, opposite Rosamond's Pond in St. James's Park; there to hear such interrogatories as I shall think fit to make you; and on your sincere answer to which depends the whole future peace, if not the life of her, who at present can only subscribe herself, in the greatest confusion, Sir, your unfortunate and impatient,

Incognita.'

Mr. Trueworth was a good deal surprized; but had no occasion to consult long with himself in what manner it would become a man of his years to behave in such an adventure, and therefore sat down and immediately wrote an answer in these terms.

'To the fair Incognita.

Madam,

Though a challenge from an unknown antagonist might be rejected without any danger of incurring the imputation of cowardice, and, besides, as the combat to which I am invited is to be that of words, in which your sex are generally allowed to excel, I have not any sort of chance of overcoming; yet, to shew that I dare encounter a fine woman at any weapon, and shall not repine at being foiled, will not fail to give you the triumph you desire; and to that end will wait on you exactly at the time and place mentioned in yours: till when, you may rest satisfied that I am, with the greatest impatience, the obliging Incognita's most devoted servant,

C. Trueworth.'

Though Mr. Trueworth had not only heard of, but also experienced, when on his travels abroad, some adventures of a parallel nature with this; yet, as it never had entered his head that the English ladies took this method of introducing themselves to the acquaintance of those they were pleased to favour, the challenge of the Incognita—who she was—where she had seen him—what particular action of his had merited her good graces—and a thousand other conjectures, all tending to the same object, very much engrossed his mind. Indeed, he was glad to encourage any thoughts which served to drive those of Miss Betsy thence; whose idea, in spite of all his endeavours, and her supposed unworthiness, would sometimes intervene, and poison the sweets of his most jovial moments among his friends.

His curiosity (for it cannot be said was as yet instigated by a warmer passion) rendered him, however, very careful not to suffer the hour mentioned in the lady's letter to escape: but though he was at the place somewhat before the time, she was the first, and already waited his approach. As he turned by the corner of the pond, he began to reflect, that as she had given him no signal whereby she might be known, he might possibly mistake for his Incognita some other, whom chance might have directed to the bench; and was somewhat at a loss how to accost her in such a manner, as that the compliment might not make him be looked upon as rude or made, by a person who had no reason to expect it from him.

But the fair lady, who, it is likely, was also sensible she had been a little wanting in this part of the assignation, soon eased him of the suspense he was in, by rising from her seat, as he drew near, and saluting him with these words, 'How perfectly obliging,' said she, 'is this punctuality! It almost flatters me I shall have no reason to repent the step I have taken.'—'A person who is injured,' replied Mr. Trueworth, 'has doubtless a right to complain; and if I have, though ever so unwarily, been guilty of any wrong, cannot be too hasty, nor too zealous, in the reparation: be pleased, therefore, Madam, to let me know the nature of my offence, and be assured that the wishes of my whole heart shall be to expiate it.'

In concluding these words, one of her gloves being off, he took hold of her hand, and kissed it with either a real or a seeming warmth. 'Take care what you say,' cried she, 'lest I exact more from you than is in your power to perform: but let us sit down,' pursued she, suffering him still to keep her hand in his, 'and begin to fulfil the promise you have made, by satisfying me in some points I have to ask, with the same sincerity as you would answer Heaven.'—'Be assured I will,' said he, putting her hand a second time to his mouth; 'and this shall be the book on which I will swear to every article.'

'First, then,' demanded she, 'are you married, or contracted?'—'Neither, by all that's dear!' said he. 'Have you no attachment,' resumed she, 'to any particular lady, that should hinder your engaging with another?'-'Not any, upon my honour!' answered he.