Friday, Nov. 1, 1816.—My beloved child, my docile, gentle, joyous, affectionate Bessy, resumed by Heaven at seven o’clock this morning.
TO THE HONOURABLE MISS AGAR.
Bursledon Lodge, Nov. 1, 1816.
The lovely one is gone. I am more deeply wounded than religion permits. Pity and pray for me. My visit to you is not to be thought of; I would not sadden any society by my presence. God bless you, and long preserve to you the objects of your dearest affections. My beautiful blossom, whose loveliness I had diminished in order to surprise you—foolish, wicked vanity—died as she had lived, loving every one better than herself. The last phrase she uttered, except those expressive of her latest wants and pains, was a desire the window-curtain might be withdrawn, that she might look at the stars. A little before, she had asked her afflicted maid if she thought she would go to heaven. Keep this note. I like to think she will not be forgotten.
TO MRS. LEADBEATER.
Bursledon Lodge, Nov. 4, 1816.