LETTER LV.
Harrington to Worthy.
Boston.
AM I a child that I should weep?—I have been meditating on the course of my calamities—Why did my father love Maria—or rather, why did I love their Harriot? Curse on this tyrant custom that dooms such helpless children to oblivion or infamy! Had I known her to have been my sister, my love would have been regular, I should have loved her as a sister, I should have marked her beauty—I should have delighted in protecting it. I should have observed her growing virtues—I should have been happy in cherishing their growth. But alas! She is gone—and I cannot stay—I stand on the threshold of a vast eternity.
LETTER LVI.
Harrington to Worthy.
Boston.
I AM determined to quit this life. I feel much easier since my determination. The step must not be taken with rashness. I must be steady—calm—collected—I will endeavour to be so.—
HER eager solicitation—the anxiety she always expressed for me—When I think she is no more, it wrings my heart with grief, and fills my eyes with tears—
—I must go—