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I have turned and re-turned all the words and expressions of your letter, in order to get some insight into the cause of your distress, but am still as much in the dark as ever. The effects of it appear but too visibly in your manner of writing, and in your so long silence, as I had written twice.

I mentioned this to Chetwood lately. He assuredly knows nothing of your grief, or at least mentions nothing of it to me. Would to God I were near you! Perhaps I might comfort you, or give some counsel, or hit upon some expedient to extricate you from this distress. At this distance I have only prayers to offer that God will in his great mercy give you that help and consolation you desire. But you must address yourself zealously to that great Fountain of mercy. I wish you could be more particular (in statement), except it be something absolutely improper for me to know. At present I have formed but one reasonable conjecture, which is that it is something of a love affair which you have not been able to bring about. I wish again I were near you. I hope there is no disagreement with your father.

His elder sister thus writes in August following:—

I beseech you, dear Ned, to recover your spirits. I own it is a very hard task, but the greater the difficulty, the more merit you will have in conquering it. I wish you would partake of all sorts of diversions; for though I do not expect they can afford you in your present situation any amusement at the time, yet I believe dissipation is the best remedy against low spirits; though I must confess I do not think it the pleasantest. Adieu! my dear Ned, and let me once more entreat you to strive to get the better of your melancholy as well for your friends’ sake as your own; for it is impossible we ever can be happy when we see you otherwise.

Catherine, the younger, who through life evinced extreme affection for her brother, writing in Sep-