She was then going with Mr. Jenkings into Oxfordshire:--you admired
her;--but had you known her mind, how would you have felt for Darcey!
Be cautious, tender, and circumspect, in your sad undertaking.--Go first
to the old steward's, about a mile from the Abbey; if he is not
return'd, break it to his wife and son.--They will advise, they will
assist you, in the dreadful affair;--I hope the poor old gentleman has
not proceeded farther than London.--Write the moment you have seen the
family; write every melancholy particular: my mind is only fit for such
gloomy recitals.--Farewel! I go to my dying friend.
Yours,
MOLESWORTH.
LETTER XXX.
Captain RISBY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH,
_Barford Abbey_.
What is the sight of thousands slain in the field of battle, compar'd
with the scene I am just escap'd from!--How can I be
circumstantial!--where am I to begin!--whose distress shall I paint
first!--can there be precedence in sorrow!
What a weight will human nature support before it sinks!--The distress'd
inhabitants of this house are still alive; it is proclaim'd from every
room by dreadful groans.
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