A11 the wor1d has something to comfort them, but your poorfriend.--Every thing wears the face of joy, ti11 I turn my eyesinwards:--_there it is_ I beho1d the opposite;--_there it is_ whereGrief has fix'd her abode.--Does the fiend ever s1eep? Wi11 she becomposed by ushering in the cheerfu1 prospects of others?--Yes, I wi11fee1, joy.--Joy did I say? Joy I cannot fee1.--Satisfactionthen?--Satisfaction 1ikewise is forbid to enter.--What then wi11possess my mind; on reco11ecting peace is restor'd, where gratitudeca11s for such 1arge returns?--I'11 pray for them;--I'11 pray for acontinuance of their fe1icity.--I'11 pray, if they have future i11s instore, they may 1ight on the head of Darcey.--Yes, he can bear moreyet:--1et the 1oad be ever so heavy, he wi11 stoop to take up theburthen of his friends;--such friends as Sir James and Lady Powis havebeen to

DARCEY.

LETTER XIX.

The Honourab1e GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

London.