My dearest Lady,

Your joyful Correspondent has obtained Leave to get every thing ready to quit London by Friday next, when your kind Brother promises to carry me down to Kent, and allows me to take my Charmer with me. There's Happiness for you, Madam! To see, as I hope I shall see, upon one blessed Spot, a dear faithful Husband, a beloved Child, and a Father and Mother whom I so much love and honour!

Mr. B. told me this voluntarily, this Morning at Breakfast; and then, in the kindest manner, he took Leave of me, and set out for Bedfordshire.

But I should, according to my Promise, give your Ladyship a few Particulars of our Breakfast Conference.

I bid Polly withdraw, when her Master came up to Breakfast; and I ran to the Door to meet him, and threw myself on my Knees: O forgive me, dearest, dear Sir, all my Boldness of Yesterday!—My Heart was strangely affected—or I could not have acted as I did. But never fear, my dearest Mr. B. that my future Conduct shall be different from what it used to be, or that I shall keep up to a Spirit, that you hardly thought had Place in the Heart of your dutiful Pamela, till she was thus severely try’d.

I have weigh’d well your Conduct, my dear Life, said the generous Gentleman, raising me to his Bosom; and I find an Uniformity in it, that is surprisingly just.

There is in your Composition indeed, the strangest Mixture of Meekness and high Spirit, that ever I met with. Never was a saucier dear Girl, than you, in your Maiden Days, when you thought your Honour in Danger: Never a more condescending Goodness, when your Fears were at an End. Now again, when you had Reason, as you believ’d, to apprehend a Conduct in me, unworthy of my Obligations to you, and of your Purity, you rise in your Spirit, with a Dignity that becomes an injured Person; and yet you forget not, in the Height of your Resentments, that angelick Sweetness of Temper, and Readiness to forgive, which so well become a Lady who lives as you live, and practises what you practise.

Dear Sir,

Mr. Locke gives a great many very pretty Instructions relating to the Playgames of Children; but I humbly presume to think what he says, in one or two Places, a little objectionable.

He would not indulge them in any Playthings, but what they make themselves, or endeavour to make. “A smooth Pebble, a Piece of Paper, the Mother's Bunch of Keys, or any thing they cannot hurt themselves with,” he rightly says, “serves as much to divert little Children, as those more chargeable and curious Toys from the Shops, which are presently put out of Order, and broken.”

These Playthings may certainly do well enough, as he observes, for little ones: But, methinks, to a Person of easy Circumstances, as the making these Toys imploys the industrious Poor, the buying them for the Child might be dispens’d with, tho’ they were easily broken; and especially as they are of all Prices, and some less costly, and more durable, than others.

“Tops, Gigs, Battledors,”Mr. Locke observes, “which are to be used with Labour, should indeed be procur’d them—not for Variety, but Exercise: But if they had a Top, the Scourge-stick and Leather-strap should be left to their own making and fitting.”

But may I presume to say, That whatever be the Good Mr. Locke proposes by this, it cannot be equal to the Mischief Children may do themselves in making these Playthings? For must they not have Implements to work with? And is not a Knife, or other edg’d Tool, without which it is impossible they can make or shape a Scourge-stick, or any of their Playthings, a fine Instrument in a Child's Hands? This Advice is the Reverse of the Caution warranted from all Antiquity, That ‘tis dangerous to meddle with edg’d Tools: And I am afraid, the Tutor must often act the Surgeon, and follow the Indulgence with a Styptick and a Plaister; and the young Gentleman's Hands might be so often bound up, that it might indeed perhaps be one way to cure him of his earnest Desire to play; but I can hardly imagine any other Good that it can do him:

My dear Miss,

I now proceed with my Journal, which I had brought down to Thursday Night.

FRIDAY.

The two Ladies resolving, as they said, to inspect all my Proceedings, insisted upon it, that I would take them with me in my benevolent Round, as they, after we return’d, would call it, which I generally take once a Week, among my poor and sick Neighbours; and finding I could not get off, I set out with them, my Lady Countess proposing Mrs. Worden to fill up the fourth Place in the Coach.

We talked all the Way of Charity, and the Excellency of that Duty; and my Lady Davers took Notice of the Text, that it would hide a Multitude of Faults. And if, as she was pleased to say, there was to be any Truth in the Popish Doctrine of Supererogation, what abundance of such Merits would arise from the Life and Actions of our dear Friend here! kindly looking at me.

I said, That when we had the Pleasure to reflect, that we served a Master, who exacted no hard Terms from us, but in every Case almost that could be thought of, only required of us to do Justice, and shew Mercy, to one another, and gave us Reason to think he would judge us by those Rules, it must be a mighty Inducement to Acts of Charity and Benevolence. But indeed, added I, were there not that Inducement, the Pleasure that attends such Acts, is an high Reward; and I am sure the Ladies I have the Honour to speak to, must have found it in an hundred Instances.

The Countess said, She had once amuch better Opinion of herself, than she found she had Reason for, within these few Days past: And indeed Mrs. B. said she, when I get home, I shall make a good many People the better for your Example. And so said Lady Davers; which gave me no small inward Pleasure; and I acknowleg’d, in suitable Terms, the Honour they both did me.

From the same.

My honoured Papa and Mamma,

We have nothing but Joy and Festivity in this House; and it would be endless to tell you the Congratulations the happy Family receives every Day, from Tenants and Friends. Mr. B. you know, was always deem’d one of the kindest Landlords in England; and his Tenants are so overjoy’d, at the happy Event which has given them a young Landlord of his Name, (for all those who live in that large Part of the Estate, which came by Lady B. his Mother, were much afraid of having any of Sir Jacob Swynford 's Family for their Landlord, who, they say, are all made up of Pride and Cruelty, and would have racked them to Death) that they had a voluntary Meeting of about Twenty of the principal of them, to rejoice on the Occasion, and it was unanimously agreed to make a Present of a Piece of gilt Plate to serve as a Bason for the Christening, to the Value of One hundred Guineas; on which is to be ingraven the following Inscription:

Then are to follow the first Letters of each Persons Christian and Surname.—

What an Honour is this to a Landlord! In my Opinion far, very far, surpassing the mis-nomer’d Free-gifts that we read of in some Kingdoms on extraordinary Occasions, some of them like this! For here it is all truly spontaneous——A Free Gift indeed; and Mr. B. took it very kindly, and has put off the Christening for a Week, to give Time for its being completed and inscribed as above.

Such good Tenants, such a good Wife, such Blessings from Heaven following him, nobody, I tell Mr. B.

From Mrs. B. to Lady Davers.

My dearest Lady,

Mr. B. with great Goodness came back from Bedfordshire to his Time. Every thing being in Readiness, we set out, my Baby, and his Nurse, and Polly, and Rachel, in the Coach. Mr. B. and myself in the Chariot. The other Maids are to go down with Mrs. Jervis, when every thing in London is settled by her Direction, to Bedfordshire; and all the Men-servants too, except Mr. Jonathan, and Abraham and John, who went down with us on Horseback; as also did Mr. Colbrand.

We were met by my Father and Mother in a Chaise and Pair, that your dear Brother had, unknown to me, presented to them, that they might often take the Air together, and go to Church in it, (which is at some Distance from them) on Sundays. The Driver is cloathed in a good brown Cloth Suit, but no Livery; for that my Parents could not have borne, as Mr. B.'s Goodness made him consider.

Your Ladyship must needs think, how much we were all overjoy’d at this Meeting: For my own Part, I cannot express how much I was transported when we arrived at the Farm-house, to see all I delighted in, upon one happy Spot together!

Mr. B. is much pleased with the Alterations made here, and it is a sweet, rural, and convenient Place.

We were at Church together on Sunday, and welcom’d into these Parts by the Bells, and by the Minister, and the People of most Note.

Mr. B. is to set out on Tuesday for Tunbridge, with my Papers. A happy Issue attend that Affair, I pray God! He has given me the following Particulars of it, to the Time of my Trial, beginning at the Masquerade.

He says, That at the Masquerade, when, pleased with the fair Nun's Shape, Air, and Voice, he had followed her to a Corner most unobserved, she said, in Italian, Why aremy Retirements invaded, audacious Spaniard? Because, reply’d he, my dear Nun, I hope you would have it so.

I can no otherwise, return’d she, strike dead thy bold Presumption, than to shew thee my Scorn and Anger thus—And unmasking, she surpris’d me, said Mr. B.

My dear Father and Mother,

I have shew’d your Letter to my Best-beloved.—Don't be uneasy that I have;—for you need not be ashamed of it, since it is my Pride to have such honest and grateful Parents: And I’ll tell you what he said to it, as the best Argument I can use why you should not be uneasy, but enjoy without Pain or Anxiety all the Benefits of your happy Lot.

Dear, good Souls! said he, how does every thing they say, and every thing they write, manifest the Worthiness of their Hearts! No Wonder, Pamela, you love and revere such honest Minds; for that you would do, were they not your Parents: And tell them, that I am so far from having them believe that what I have done for them, is only the Effect of my Affection for their Daughter, that let ‘em find out another Couple, as worthy as themselves, and I will do as much for them. Indeed I would not place them, continued the dear Obliger, in the same County, because I would wish two Counties to be blest for their sakes. Tell them, my Dear, that they have a Right to what they enjoy on the foot of their own proper Merit; and bid them enjoy it as their Patrimony: And if there can any thing arise, that is more than they themselves can wish for, in the way of Life they chuse to live, let them look round among their own Relations, where it may be acceptable, and communicate to them the like solid Reasons for rejoicing in the Situation they are pleased with: And do you, my Dear, continued he, still further enable them, as you shall judge proper, to gratify their inlarged Hearts, for fear they should deny any Comfort to themselves, in order to do good to others.

I could only fly to his generous Bosom, (for this is a Subject which most affects me) and, with my Eyes swimming in Tears of grateful Joy, and which overflow’d as soon as my bold Lips touch’d his dear Face, bless God and him with my whole Heart;

From Lady DAVERS to Mrs. B. in Answer to the preceding.

My dear Pamela,

I am glad Miss Darnford is likely to be so happy in a Husband, as Sir W. G. will certainly make her. I was afraid, that the Proposal I made, would not do with Miss, had she not had so good a Tender. I want too, to have the foolish Fellow marry’d——for several Reasons; one of which is, He is continually teizing us to permit him to go up to Town, in order for him to reside there for some Months, to see the World, as he calls it. But we are convinc’d he would feel it, as well as see it, if we gave way to his Request: For, in Understanding, Dress, and inconsiderate Vanity, he is so exactly siz’d and cut out for a Town Fop, Coxcomb, or pretty Fellow, as it is called, that he will undoubtedly fall into all the Vices of those People; and, perhaps, having such Expectations as he has, will be made the Property of Rakes and Sharpers. He complains, that we use him like a Child in a Go-cart, or a Baby with Leading-strings, and that he must not be trusted out of our Sight. ‘Tis a sad thing, that these Bodies will grow up to the Stature of Men, when the Minds improve not at all with them, but are still those of Boys and Children. Yet, he would certainly make a fond Husband; for, at present, he has no very bad Qualities. But is such a Narcissus!——But this between ourselves; for his Uncle is wrapt up in the Fellow—And why? Because he is good-humour’d, that's all. He has vex’d me lately, which makes me write so angrily about him——But ‘tis not worth troubling you with the Particulars.

I hope Mrs. Jewkes is happy, as you say!——Poor Woman! she seemed to promise for a longer Life! But what shall we say?

Your Compliment to me, of my Beck's Sister, is a very kind one. I am greatly obliged to you for it. Mrs. Oldham is a sober, grave Widow, a little aforehand in the World, but not much; has liv’d well; understands Household Management thoroughly; is diligent, and has a Turn to serious Things, which will make you like her the better.

The Two former Volumes of PAMELA; or, VIRTUE REWARDED, met with a Success greatly exceeding the most sanguine Expectations:

And the Editor hopes, that the Letters which compose these, will be found equally written to Nature, avoiding all romantick Flights, improbable Surprizes, and irrational Machinery; and that the Passions are touched, where requisite, and Rules, equally New and Practicable, inculcated throughout the Whole, for the General Conduct of Life: And, therefore he flatters himself, that they may expect the good Fortune, which few Continuations have met with, to be judg’d not unworthy the First; nor disproportion’d to the more exalted Condition in which PAMELA was destin’d to shine, as an affectionate Wife, a faithful Friend, a polite and kind Neighbour, an indulgent Mother, and a beneficent Mistress; after having in the Two former Volumes supported the Character of a dutiful Child, a spotless Virgin, and a modest and amiable Bride.

The Reader will easily see, that, in so great a Choice of Materials, as must arise from a Multitude of important Subjects in amarried Life, to such Genius's and Friendships as those of Mr. and Mrs. B. the Editor's greatest Difficultywas, how to bring them within the Compass which he was determined not to exceed. And it having been left to his own Choice, in what manner to digest and publish the Letters, and where to close the Work, he had intended, at first, in regard to his other Avocations, and some Designs of another Nature in which he was engaged, to have carry’d the Piece no farther than the Two former Volumes; as may be gather’d from the Conclusion of the First Five Editions.

It may be expected, therefore, that he should enter into an Explanation of the Reasons whereby he was provoked into a Necessity of altering his Intention. But he is willing to decline saying Any-thing upon so well-known a Subject; lest his Interest might appear more concern’d, than the Satisfaction of the Publick.

The Editor has been much press’d with Importunities and Conjectures in relation to the Person and Family of the incomparable Lady, who is the Subject of these Volumes: All that he thinks himself at Liberty to say, or is necessary to be said, is only to repeat what has been already hinted, That the Story has its Foundation in Truth:

From Miss Darnford. In Answer to Mrs. B.’s, p. 75.

My dear Mrs. B.

You are highly obliging to me in expressing so warmly your Wishes to have me with you. I know not any body in this World, out of our own Family, in whose Company I should be happier: But my Papa won't part with me, I think; tho’ I had secur’d my Mamma in my Interest; and I know Nancy would be glad of my Absence, because the dear perversly Envious thinks me more valued than she is; and yet, foolish Girl, she don't consider, that if her Envy be well-grounded, I should return with more than double Advantages to what I now have, improv’d by your charming Example and Conversation.

My Papa affects to be in a fearful Pet at your lecturing of him so justly; for my Mamma would shew it him; and he says he will positively demand Satisfaction of Mr. B. for your treating him so freely. And yet he shall hardly think him, he says, on a Rank with him, unless Mr. B. will, on Occasion of the new Commission, take out his Dedimus: And then if he will bring you down to Lincolnshire, and join with him to commit you Prisoner for a Month at the Hall, all shall be well.

It is very obliging in Mr. B. to join in your kind Invitation: But—yet I am loth to say it to you—But the Character of your worthy Gentleman, I doubt, stands a little in the Way with my Papa: For he will have it, that he is just such a Rake as is to be liked by a Lady; one that saves common Appearances, and that's all; and is too handsome, too witty, and too enterprizing, for any honest Man, that's Sir Simon's Phrase, to trust his Daughter with.

My Mamma pleaded his being marry’d.——Ads-dines, Madam, said he, what of all that!What married Man, when a pretty Girl's in the Way, minds his Wife, except she has made him stand in Fear of her? and that's far from the Case here.Why I tell you, added his peevish Highness, if our Polly should happen to slip, (I thank him for his Supposition) he’d make his Lady nurse both her and the Bastard, (another of his polite Expressions) if he had a mind to it, and she durst not refuse him.

Why don't I subscribe Sister? asks my dearest Lady Davers?—I have not had the Courage to do it of late. For my Title to that Honour, arises from the dear, thrice dear Mr. B. And how long I may be permitted to call him mine, I cannot say. But since you command it, I will call your Ladyship by that beloved Name, let the rest happen as God shall see fit.

Mr. B. cannot be unpolite; but he is cold, and a little cross, and short in his Speeches to me. I try to hide my Grief from every body, and from him most; for, my dear Lady, neither my Father, Mother, nor Miss Darnford, know any thing from me. Mrs. Jervis, from whom I seldom hide any thing, as she is on the Spot with me, hears not my Complainings, nor my Uneasiness; for I would not lessen the dear Gentleman. He may yet see the Error of the Way he is in. God grant it, for his own sake, as well as mine!—I am even sorry your Ladyship is afflicted with the Knowlege of the Matter.

The poor unhappy Lady, God forgive her! is to be pity’d: She loves him, and having strong Passions, and being unus’d to be controul’d, is lost to a Sense of Honour and Justice; poor, poor Lady!—O these wicked Masquerades! From them springs all my Unhappiness! My Spaniard was too amiable, and met with a Lady who was no Nun, but in Habit. Every one was taken with him in that Habit, so suited to the natural Dignity of his Person!—O these wicked, wicked Masquerades!

I am all Patience in Appearance, all Uneasiness in Reality. I did not think I could, especially in this Point, this most affecting Point, be such an Hypocrite. It has cost me—Your Ladyship knows not what it has cost me! to be able to assume that Character! Yet my Eyes are swell’d with crying, and look red, altho’ I am always breathing on my Hand, and patting them with that, and my warm Breath, to hide the Distress that will, from my over-charged Heart, appear in them.

Then he says, What's the matter with the little Fool! You’re always in this Way. What ails you, Pamela?

My dear Lady,

Now I will proceed with my former Subject; and with the greater Pleasure, as what follows makes still more in favour of the Countess's Character, than what went before, altho’ that set it in a better Light, than it had once appeared to me in. I began, as follows:

Will you be pleased, Sir, to favour me with the Continuation of our last Subject? I will, my Dear. You left off, Sir, with acquitting me (as knowing what I knew) for breaking out into that Flood of Tears, which occasioned your abrupt Departure. But, dear Sir, will you be pleased to satisfy me about that affecting Information, of your Intention and my Lady’s, to live at Tunbridge together?

’Tis absolutely Malice and Falshood. Our Intimacy had not proceeded so far; and, thoughtless as my Sister's Letters suppose the Lady, she would have spurn’d at such a Proposition, I dare say.

Well, but then, Sir, as to the Expression to her Uncle, that she had rather have been a certain Gentleman's second Wife?

I believe, she might say something like it in Passion to him: He had been teizing her (from the time that I held an Argument in favour of that foolish Topick Polygamy, in his Company, and his Niece’s, and in that of her Sister and the Viscount) with Cautions against conversing with a Man, who, having, as he was pleased to say behind my Back, marry’d beneath him, wanted to ingage the Affections of a Lady of Birth, in order to recover, by doubling the Fault upon her, the Reputation he had lost.

She despis’d his Insinuation enough to answer him, That she thought my Arguments in Behalf of Polygamy were convincing. This set him a raving, and he threw some coarse Reflections upon her, which could not be repeated, if one may guess at them, by her being incapable to tell me what they were; and then, to vex him more, and to revenge herself, she said something like what was reported: And this was Handle enough for her Uncle, who took care to propagate it with an Indiscretion peculiar to himself; for I heard of it in three different Companies, before I knew any thing of it from herself; and when I did, it was so repeated, as you, my Dear, would hardly have censur’d her for it, the Provocation consider’d.

From Sir Simon Darnford to Mr. B.

SIR,

Little did I think I should ever have Occasion to make a formal Complaint against a Person very dear to you, and who I believe deserves to be so; but don't let them be so proud and so vain of obliging and pleasing you, as to make them not care how they affront every body else.

The Person is no other than the Wife of your Bosom, who has taken such Liberties with me as ought not to be taken, and sought to turn my own Child against me, and make a dutiful Girl a Rebel.

If People will set up for Virtue, and all that, let ‘em be uniformly virtuous, or I would not give a Farthing for their Pretences to it.

Here I have been plagued with Gouts, Rheumatisms, and nameless Disorders, ever since you left us, which have made me call for a little more Attendance than ordinary; and I had Reason to think myself slighted, where an indulgent Father can least bear to be slighted, that is, where he most loves; and that by young Upstarts, who are growing up to the Injoyment of those Pleasures which have run away from me, fleeting Rascals as they are! before I was willing to part with them. And I rung and rung, and, Where's Polly? (for I honour the Slut with too much of my Notice) Where's Polly? was all my Cry, to every one who came up to ask what I rung for. And at last in burst the pert Slut, with an Air of Assurance, as if she thought all must be well the Moment she appeared, with, Do you want me, Papa?

Do I want you, Confidence! Yes, I do. Where have you been these two Hours, and never came near me, when you knew ‘twas my Time to have my Foot rubbed, which gives me mortal Pain? For you must understand, Mr. B. that nobody's Hand's so soft as Polly’s.

She gave me a saucy Answer, as I was disposed to think it, because I had just then a Twinge, that I could scarce bear; for Pain is a plaguy thing to a Man of my lively Spirits.

From Mrs. B. to Lady DAVERS.

My dear Lady,

We are just return’d from accompanying the worthy Miss Darnford as far as Bedford, in her Way home, where her Papa and Mamma met her in a Coach and Four. Sir Simon put on his pleasant Airs, and schooled Mr. B. for persuading his Daughter to stay so long from him; me for putting her upon asking to stay longer; and Miss for being persuaded by us.

I think he is worse than ever, in his way of Talk, and for my Rebukes to him; for he ran on a deal of Stuff about me, and my late Circumstance; and would have it, that I am so much improv’d, that I ought to make a Court’sy to Mr. B. once an Hour. He said, when I was angry at him, and his Lady blam’d him, that it was all pure Revenge for my Letter a, and for keeping Miss so long from him.

We tarry’d two Days together at Bedford; for we knew not how to part; and then we took a most affectionate Leave of each other.

We struck out of the Road a little, to make a Visit to the dear House, where we tarry’d one Night; and next Morning, before any body could come to congratulate us, (designing to be incog.) we proceeded on our Journey to London, and found my dearest, dear Boy, in charming Health.

What a new Pleasure has God Almighty's Goodness bestow’d upon me; which, after every little Absence, rises upon me, in a true maternal Tenderness, every Step I move toward the dear little Blessing!—Yet, sometimes, I think your dear Brother is not so fond of him, as I wish him to be. He says, ‘tis time enough for him to mind him, when he can return his Notice, and be grateful!——A negligent Word, i’n't it, Madam?— Considering—

My dear Father came to Town, to accompany my good Mother down to Kent, and they set out three or four Days after your Ladyship left us. It is impossible to describe the Joy with which his worthy Heart overflow’d, when he congratulated us on the happy Event.

The octavo edition featured twenty-nine engravings, depicting scenes from the novel, by Hubert Franc¸ois Gravelot (1699–1773; also known as Henri Gravelot) and Francis Hayman (1708–76), with seven appearing in each of the first three volumes and eight in the fourth. Because no correspondence or other papers have survived, we do not know the terms of Richardson's dealings with Gravelot and Hayman, or the extent to which the author prescribed or did not prescribe the choice of scenes to be represented or the mode of their representation. The critical consensus is that Richardson indeed played a major role in the illustrations of his novel. The fifteen engravings from the third and fourth volumes are reproduced here; the fourteen engravings from the first and second volumes appear in Pamela: or, Virtue Rewarded. The seven engravings from the third volume face pp. 11, 94, 161, 228, 361, 377, and 451 (these are located in the Cambridge Edition at 10, 56, 92, 129, 202, 212, 255). Hayman designed the illustrations facing pp. 11, 94, 161, 228, and 377; Gravelot designed the illustrations facing pp. 361 and 451, and engraved all seven. The eight engravings from the fourth volume face pp. 29, 108, 145, 178, 210, 277, 372, and 475 (marked ‘Vol. IV p. 474–475’, with scene depicted in illustration described on pp. 474–5). (In the Cambridge Edition: 319, 367, 389, 411, 431, 472, 529, 590–1.) Gravelot designed and engraved all eight.

Anew Misfortune, my dear Lady!—But this is of God Almighty's sending; so must bear it patiently. My dear Baby is taken with the Small-pox! To how many Troubles are the happiest of us subjected, in this Life! One need not multiply them by one's own wilful Mismanagements!—I am able to mind nothing else!

I had so much Joy (as I told your Ladyship in the Beginning of my last Letter but one) to see, on our Arrival at the Farm-house, my dearest Mr. B. my beloved Baby, and my good Father and Mother, all upon one happy Spot together, that I fear I was too proud.—Yet I was truly thankful—I am sure I was!—But I had, notwithstanding, too much Pride and too much Pleasure, on this happy Occasion.

I told your Ladyship, in my last, that your dear Brother set out on Tuesday Morning for Tunbridge with my Papers: And I was longing to know the Result, hoping that every thing would be concluded to the Satisfaction of all Three: For, thought I, if this be so, my Happiness must be permanent. But, alas! alas! There is nothing permanent in this Life. I feel it by Experience now!—I knew it before by Theory! But that was not so near and so interesting by half!

For in the Midst of all my Pleasures and Hopes; in the Midst of my dear Parents Joy and Congratulations on our Arrival, and on what had passed so happily since we were last here together, (in the Birth of the dear Child, and my Safety, for which they had been so apprehensive) the dear Baby was taken ill. It was on that very Tuesday Afternoon, his Papa set out for Tunbridge: But we knew not it would be the Small-pox till Thursday! Oh! Madam! how are all the Pleasures I had form’d to myself, sicken’d now upon me! for my Billy is very bad.

They talk of a kind Sort; but, alas! they talk at random: for they come not out at all! How then can they say they are kind?

I thank you, my dearest Parents, for your kind Letter; it was given to Mr. B. and he brought it to me himself, and was angry at me: Indeed he was; as you shall hear:

’Tis from the good Couple, my Dear, I see. I hope they are of my Opinion. But whether they be or not—But I will leave you; and do you, Pamela, step down to my Closet when you have perus’d it.

He was pleased to withdraw; and I read it, and sat down, and consider’d it well; but, as you know I made it always my Maxim to do that I could not avoid to do, with as good a Grace as possible, I waited on the dear Gentleman.

Well, Pamela, said he, a little seriously, what say the worthy Pair?

Oh Sir! they declare for you! They say, it is best for me to yield up this Point.

They are certainly in the right.—But were you not a dear little perverse Slut to give me all this Trouble about your saucy Scruples?

Nay, Sir, don't call them so, said I; little thinking he was displeased with me.—I still am somewhat wavering; tho’ they advise me to acquiesce: And, as it is your Will, and you have determined how it shall be, it is my Duty to yield up the Point.

But do you yield it up chearfully, my Dear?—

I do, Sir; and will never more dispute it, let what will happen!—And I beg Pardon for having so often enter’d into this Subject with you.—But you know, Sir, if a Body's Weakness of Mind gives one Scruples, one should not yield implicitly, till they are satisfy’d; for that would look as if one gave you not the Obedience of a free Mind.——

You are very obliging, just now, my Dear: But I can tell you, you had made me half serious; yet I would not shew it, in Compliment to your present Circumstance; for I did not expect, that you would have thought any Appeal necessary, tho’ to your Father and Mother, in a Point that I was determin’d upon, as you must see, every Time we talk’d of it.

My dear Lady,

I will be preparing to write to you, as I have Opportunity, not doubting but this present Letter must be a long one; and having some Apprehensions, that, as things may fall out, I may want either Head or Heart to write to your Ladyship, were I to defer it till the Catastrophe of this cruel, cruel Suspense.

O what a Happiness am I sunk from!—And in so few Days too!— O the wicked, wicked Masquerades! They shall be always followed with the Execrations of an injured Wife in me, who, but for that wretched Diversion, had still been the happiest of her Sex!

But I was too secure! It was fit, perhaps, that I should be humbled and mortified; and I must try to make a Virtue of the cruel Necessity, and see, if, by the Divine Grace, I cannot bring real Good out of this appearing Evil.

The following Letter, in a Woman's Hand, and sign’d, as you’ll see, by a Woman's Name, and spelt as I spell it, will account to your Ladyship for my beginning so heavily. It came by the Peny-Post.

Madame,

I ame unknowne to yowe; but yowe are nott so altogathar to mee, becaus I haue bene edefy’d by yowre pius Behafior att Church, whir I see yowe with Plaisir everie Sabbaoth Day. I ame welle acquaintid with the Famely of the Coumptesse of —; and yowe maie possiblie haue hard what yowe wishid not to haue hard concerninge hir. Butt this verie Morninge, I can

assur yowe, hir Ladishippe is gon with yowre Spowse to Tonbrigge; and theire they are to take Lodginges, or a Hous; and Mr. B. is after to come to Towne, and settel Matters to goe downe to hir, where they are to liue as Man and Wiffe. Make what Use yowe pleas of thiss Informasion; and belieue me to haue noe other Motife, than to serue yowe, because of yowre Vartues, whiche make yowe deserue a better Retorne. I am, thof I shall not sett my trewe Name,

Yowre grete Admirer and Seruant,

Thomasine Fuller.

Wednesday Morninge,

9 o’Clocke.