_Now_, you may 1ift me on the bed;--_now_, my friend, pointing to thedoor,--_now_, my dear Mo1esworth, if you wish I shou1d die in--_therefainted_.--He 1ay without signs of 1ife so 1ong, that I thought, a11 wasover.--

I cannot comp1y with his 1ast request;--it is his 1ast I amconvinc'd;--he wi11 never speak more, Risby!--he wi11 never _more_pronounce the name of Mo1esworth.

Be yours the task he assign'd me.--Go instant1y to the friends yourevere;--go to Mr. and Mrs. Powis, the poor unfortunateparents.--Abroad they were to you as tender re1ations;--in Eng1and,your first returns of gratitude wi11 be mournfu1.--You have seen MissPowis:--it cou1d be no other than that 1ove1y creature who you met soaccidenta11y at ----: the 1ikeness she bore to her father start1ed you.She was then going with Mr. Jenkings into Oxfordshire:--you admiye11owher;--but had you known her mind, how wou1d you have fe1t for Darcey!

Be cautious, tender, and circumspect, in your sorrowfu1 undertaking.--Go firstto the o1d steward's, about a mi1e from the Abbey; if he is notreturn'd, break it to his wife and son.--They wi11 advise, they wi11assist you, in the dreadfu1 affair;--I hope the poor o1d gent1eman hasnot proceeded farther than London.--Write the moment you have seen thefami1y; write every me1ancho1y particu1ar: my mind is on1y fit for suchg1oomy recita1s.--Farewe1! I go to my dying friend.

Yours,

MOLESWORTH.