But the religion of a Christian affords a nobler and a fafer refuge. With the exalted hopes that this presents to us, the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared. In those glorious hopes let us bury every anxious thought, the uneafinefs of difcontent, and the folitude of care. Let us not fink under our light afflictions, which are but for a moment. A very few years, perhaps a few months or days, may bring us into that state of being where care and mifery perplex no more. Though we have now our bed in darkness, and our pillow on the thorn, yet the time draweth nigh when we shall taste of life without anguish, and enjoy the light without bitterness of foul. "The night is far spent, (my Conftantia) the day is at hand; let us therefore gird up the loins of our mind, and be fober"no longer diffipated, or disturbed with the troubles of this world. We are hourly hafting to that scene of existence, "where the wicked ceafe from troubling, and where the weary are at rest;" where hope fhall no more be cut off by disappointment, and where the diftreffes of time are forgot in the joys of eternity. сс FRANCIS. LETTER XII. CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIUS. Is it thus that you hope to reform your Conftantia? Do you think that you fhall be able to effect this by letting her foibles pafs uncenfured, and conveying inftruction to her in general terms? Alas! how little do you know of her petulant and capricious heart! It must be corrected with severity, and quieted by over bearing reproof. At present, indeed, it is fufficiently depreft. Your obfervations on the folly and vanity of expecting happiness in this world came to me at a time, when painful experience convinced me of their truth. After Theodofius was loft to me, I contracted a friendship with an amiable and accomplished lady, to whom my melancholy and my misfortunes ferved only to endear me the more. Her good fenfe and her compaflion foothed and fupported me under all my füfferings. She left mé not to the attacks of folitary difcontent, but affi duously diverted my mind by the efforts of elegant humour, polifhed fenfe, and ingenious obfervation. As if fhe had preferred the company of forrow to every social amusement, even in that feafon of life when the heart of health and peace is always gay, fhe never forfook me during the daft five unhappy years. She obferved with unwearied vigilance the hour, when melancholy apprehenfion was increafed to the acuteness of grief. She then followed me into whatever privacy I fought; clafped me to her faithful bofom, and if, under the agonies of terror and anguish, tears refufed their affiftance, fhe folicited, and obtained them by her mollifying tenderness. When, at laft, I determined to take the veil, and had obtained my Father's confent to forfake the world for ever, her affection followed me in that final refolution. She waited only for an approaching opportunity to fettle her worldly affairs, after which fhe intended to have made one of our fifterhood, and to have paffed the remaining part of her life with her Conftantia. Upon this event my heart repofed. I forefaw in this a scene of happiness that could not be equalled upon earth, and I flattered myself that it would be as lafting as my own life. How many pleas ing hours have I paffed in meditating on the future felicity of our friendship! How often, in the luxury of imagination, have I confidered our united prayers afcending more acceptably to the throne of everlasting mercy! What joy did I promise myself, what importance in the eye of friendthip, by communicating to my Sophia all the inftructions I had received from my Theodo- fius. Oh my friend!' my father! thefe hopes are overthrown. Do I live to tell you by what means? Sophia, my tender, my dear Sophia, is no more. The uneafinefs I expreffed in my last proceeded probably in fome measure from my pre-fentiments of this cruel event. I am now very miferable, and in great need of your paternal advice. LETTER XIII. THEODOSIUS TO CONSTANTIA. As true friendship is one of the greatest bleffings of human life, our forrow, for the lofs of friends is more excufeable than most of our complaints. But, though it may be more venial, it is not more reasonable than any other mode of mifery that has its origin in difappointment. Did we think our friends immortal? Did we not know, while we held them to our hearts, that we were embracing the property of Death, who would fooner or later affert his claim? Our refignation to this, as well as to all other evils, ought to be confirmed by reflecting on the univerfal agency of Providence. The author of the book of Pfalms furnishes us with excellent doctrine on this fubject. We have fcarce any where fuch ftriking pictures of human mifery as in that book. The royal writer has described in the ftrongest colours the diftreffes and perplexities to which, as men, we are fubject. He has |