nurfed my mind with those paternal affiduities, which were somewhat above the most perfect nature of man, which could only flow from a heart, where human fenfibility was exalted and refined by the immortal graces, and where God himself elevated and expanded that philanthropy which he loves.

To the ever venerable Father Francis I owe the greatest moral bleffings that are attainable in this world, peace of confcience, and rectitude of reafon. For the recovery of the first, indeed, little more was necessary than the certainty that Theodosius was alive and happy; but the confolations. of the father added to the prefence of the friend, and replaced that quiet in my heart to which it had been fo long a stranger. Those confolations, however, were not more soothing than the lessons that attended them were inftructive. While from those I derived content and comfort, from these I received the lights of truth and reason, and was taught to look up with an intelligent adoration to that Being whofe effence is goodness and wifdom. From the confideration of these diftinguishing attributes, whenever he shall resume

that life which he gave me, I fhall resign it into his hands without forrow, and without fear.

With difficulty I had written thus far, when the importunity of my disorder obliged me to lay down the pen. I have now refumed it, and will bear it as long as I am able, for while I hold but even an ideal converfation with you, the sense of pain is suspended. Other than bodily pain I have none. The prefumption with which my apology concluded, I find, was not vain. I am perfectly indifferent to the approach of death, and, agreeably to the kind with with which you once concluded a letter, I trust that "my spirit fhall quit without a figh, the frame that confines it."

*

To you, my dearest friend, my most venerable father, loved by every dear, and refpected by every facred name, to you, under the gracious appointments of Providence, I owe this happy ferenity. By giving me proper ideas of the au

*This last letter of Constantia and the answer of Theodosius seem to have been written some years after the preceding letters.

thor of nature, and the obligations of his creatures, you have taught me to look on death as one of his best gifts, and on all beyond it without any apprehenfion.

And now, O deareft, and most revered of men, farewell!-Whether we shall meet again in any future allotment of being, is amongst the fecret counfels of Providence. I truft we shall. -Till then indulge one tender farewell from your Conftantia!-Accept one pious, one grateful adieu from

CONSTANTIA.

LETTER XVIII.

THEODOSIUS TO CONSTANTIA.

LET not my Conftantia be alarmed when she fees that this letter is written by another hand. -Let not that fortitude with which fhe has fo greatly supported her own sufferings be diffolved in weakness for her friend, nor that noble tran

quility, with which the beholds the approach of death, be disturbed when she is told that his hand is on Theodofius. I doubt not that the eternal Providence, who, in his wifdom, interwove the interefts and the passions of our lives, has, in his goodness determined that they shall close together. If this be one of his gracious dispensations, I receive it not only with fubmiffion, but with gratitude. What more could I defire of the divine Beneficence than that, delivered from this prifon of earth, I might accompany the spirit of my Conftantia to the regions of everlasting happiness, to fome more perfect allotment in the fcale of being, where the immortal faculties fhall be refined from human frailty; and where the powers of the foul shall be expanded by a nearer approach to that perfection, from which they are derived. Animated with hopes, and fupported by fentiments like thefe, let us wait without fear the approach of death, and receive him gladly, because he cometh as a friend.-The pure paffions of love and friendship, founded upon, and fupported by esteem, may last beyond the grave, because they have their exiftence in the foul.

It is not improbable that our happiness in heaven may, in some measure, confift in the harmonious intercourse of a perfect fociety, for I have no idea of a folitary happiness even in the regions of perfection. Moreover, from what little accounts we find of the angelic ftate in the facred writings, we fee that the ideas of affociation and intercourfe are always annexed to them. If then it is not to be doubted that in our future ftate we fhall affociate with fome order of beings, can any thing be more probable than that we should mix with those kindred and congenial fpirits, who like ourselves have had their appointments on earth, whether in different times and places, or the fame? If in the fame, which is ftill probable, and if the identity of our fpiritual natures cannot be destroyed, why should not the characteristics of the foul be known in heaven as well as upon earth?

Then, O my Conftantia! for that state of exalted friendship, where the fears and frailties of mortality shall be known no more! For that happy intercourse of spiritual pleasures, which fhall be no longer fubject to the influences of