Duke of Wellington
The Letters of the Duke of Wellington to Miss J., 1834-1851 / Edited, with Extracts from the Diary of the Latter

PREFACE

The effort of the Editor throughout this volume has been to repress fancy rather than to exercise it. There has not been a word added to or taken from the letters of the Duke, even the occasional eccentricities of orthography and punctuation having been preserved.

The editing that was absolutely necessary to render coherent some of Miss J.'s lucubrations has been restricted to the excision of superfluous passages of Scripture that added nothing to the sense of the text, and the correction of the very erratic punctuation both of her diary and of the copies she has left of her own letters.

Miss J.'s copies of the Duke's epistles have been verified by comparison with the originals. In every case where the needful books and journals of reference were attainable, the Duke's statements in the letters of his comings and goings and occupations have been corroborated by contemporary data.

The particulars of Miss J.'s personal history have been derived from private family sources.

CHRISTINE TERHUNE HERRICK.

Brooklyn, March 18, 1889.

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION

These hitherto unpublished Letters from the Duke of Wellington to Miss J., and the Diary of the latter, have lain for years in a trunk in the attic of a country-house within thirty miles of New York city. Their publication is permitted through the kindness of a friend with whose family Miss J. was remotely connected. The facts with regard to Miss J.'s life and character have been in part obtained through those who knew her personally, but mainly through her own Diary,—a worn volume once handsome, that at the first glance would be taken for a Bible. This book is supplied with a spring-lock. Its hundreds of pages are closely covered with a minute handwriting, and the ink with which they were traced has faded to a yellowish brown, indistinct in places, but never quite undecipherable. The Duke's letters are written in a peculiar, irregular hand, very difficult to read, and becoming more crabbed as he advanced in years. While the spelling is almost invariably correct, the construction of the sentences is often involved, and the punctuation follows no known method.

At the time Miss J.'s correspondence with the Duke of Wellington opened, she was a very beautiful woman about twenty years of age. Her parents were from among the smaller English gentry, and in her girlhood she, with her elder sister, attended one of the best schools in England. Many of her companions were of noble birth, and the associations then formed were continued in later years. Miss J.'s father died while she was little more than a child, and not long after the mother followed. At her death the daughter writes that a vision was vouchsafed to her of the heaven her mother was entering.

The elder sister married an American physician and came with him to this country, leaving Miss J. with a companion and in the nominal care of her guardian, who seems to have confined himself to supplying her with the funds accruing from the investments made of the property left by her mother. Miss J. lived now in lodgings, now in a rented house, in company with a devoted elderly friend to whom she constantly alludes in her Diary, and made many visits to the country-houses of former schoolmates. She appears never to have had any taste for general society. A woman of deeply devotional nature, her fervor in spiritual matters had been heightened by associations into which she had been thrown soon after quitting school, and further strengthened by the example and precepts of her bosom companion, Mrs. L. But while the latter evidently possessed strong common-sense and a well-balanced mind, Miss J. was impulsive, enthusiastic, undisciplined. Whatever she did was done with all her might. In her sight there could be no middle course, no half-way measures. By much introspection and pondering of the Scriptures she developed into a religious zealot, fanatically anxious for the conversion of those about her. And this conversion was in her mind nothing less than the turning aside from all worldly pursuits, and the entire dedication of time and self to religious avocations. She shrank with horror from what she called "The World," and interpreted this to mean public offices, wealth, and honors conferred by the State. All these she considered as snares to draw the soul from the contemplation of God and eternity, and bind it down to the things of time and sense.

While little more than a girl, she had had a love-affair with a young man, of whom she writes as "Henry," or "H." Although attached to him, he fell short of her standard in matters spiritual, and she therefore gave him up. She describes with feeling her deep anxiety for his salvation, the prayers she offered for him, and her trembling hope that he might become converted and they might yet be happy together. As the young man still clung to "The World," she nerved herself to break the bond between them and to crush down her affection for him. For a while she seemed to succeed; but the victory over herself was not complete. In her Diary she writes:—

"A few days ago, while Mary was at the harp, in a moment a feeling of tenderness seemed to return towards H.; but I could not certainly say it was so until two days after, when Mary returned from her visit and alluded to him, adding she had looked at Selby and prayed it may become an abode of righteousness, or words to this effect,—when I was at once overcome, and burst into tears. This, indeed, verified my suspicion; and what could I say to such things but this: 'Thy will, O God, be done!'"

Resolved that she would not let her mind dwell upon one who had "never known a new birth unto righteousness," she devoted herself to good works, to instructing the school-children in the village, visiting the poor and afflicted, teaching two gypsy boys, in whom she was much interested, to read and to pray, writing letters on religious topics to her friends, and adapting hymns for the harp. She was an earnest student of the Bible, and held firm faith in the doctrine that even the most trivial events in one's life are directed by an overruling Providence. She carried this belief so far that when in doubt as to what to do in any matter, she would open her Bible at random, read the first text that caught her eye, and shape her course by the direction she found there.

That her friends deprecated such fanaticism—for it really amounted to that—in so young and beautiful a girl, is apparent from passages in her Diary, where she states, with evident enjoyment, that she had undergone "persecution for righteousness' sake," and laments that certain friends should so evidently be "laboring under the power of Satan."

During the month of June, 1833, while staying with a friend, of whom she speaks as "Mary," in the village of S., intelligence was brought to Miss J. of a hardened criminal who was confined in the county jail. He had been convicted of murder, and was to be executed shortly. Both Catholic and Protestant clergymen had been with him, and had endeavored in vain to make some impression upon him by prayers and exhortation. Here was Miss J.'s opportunity. She and her friend Mary went to the prisoner, and by their ministrations produced such an effect that he made full confession of his guilt and professed repentance and conversion. In her Diary Miss J. tells how she dreaded her first expedition to the jail, the prayers she uttered for strength, and the direct answers she received. Of a later visit to "poor Cook" she writes:

"Oh, what a glorious change was there! The stony heart become a heart of flesh! Great God, thy mercies are indeed infinite, and thy ways past finding out!" A few days later she says: "Went again to S.; found poor Cook rapidly ripening for that eternal kingdom into which through his Saviour's righteousness he will soon be gloriously received."

The two girls kept up their visits, in face of a command to discontinue them from Mary's parents.

"Mary received such an angry letter, prohibiting her visiting poor Cook,—to whom, notwithstanding, we of course went, saw him, and the next day were at chapel with him (being Sunday); after which he said he would like then to fall asleep in the Lord, etc. On Monday evening we had singing and prayers with him. On Tuesday saw his chains taken off, and remained with him until he left the prison. On Wednesday were at court, and left S., feeling our work was done,—grateful, I trust, for such manifold mercies, and more anxious than ever to glorify our heavenly Lord. Today, the 10th, poor Cook suffered; and I can now fancy him a glorious spirit, hovering near, ministering to those that are to be heirs of salvation."

The result of Miss J.'s success with this unfortunate man naturally strengthened her in her devotion to a religious life; and the effect was deepened by the commendations of her pious friends. It was not so common then as now to make pets of condemned criminals; and the success of this young girl in subduing a man with whom priests and parsons had hopelessly labored, created a sensation and called forth comment from the press. It would have been almost phenomenal had the girl's head not been turned. Her devotion to the advancement of the cause of Christ as she understood it, was strong and genuine. Surrounded by judicious advisers, she might have manifested her zeal in a different fashion. As it was, she now felt she had been especially called of God to do a great work. Looking around her for an object, her attention was drawn to the Duke of Wellington. She seemed to have known more of him as the public man than as the soldier; for she expressly states at a later period that when she first wrote to him she was not aware that he was the conqueror of Bonaparte, and did not even know when the Battle of Waterloo took place,—a statement that leads to the inference that instruction in the fashionable schools of that day dealt more with playing on the harp and similar showy accomplishments than with a knowledge of English history.

Miss J. leaves in her Diary a list of the letters received from the Duke, prefacing them with the following introduction:—

"Seeing that I have adverted in the former part of this book to the feelings experienced on our return from poor Cook, which induced me to look up to the Lord, enquiring what next HE would have me to do, receiving this precious reply, 'Greater things than these, that they may marvel;' and considering such words must have had a reference to his condescending dealings a few months afterwards in influencing me to write to the Duke upon the necessity of a new birth unto righteousness,—I am solicitous to devote a portion of this book to his letters, remarking thereon as the list thereof proceeds: May the Lord be with me, inclining my heart and pen to perform all his good will and pleasure, be that whatever it may, for his holy name' sake. Amen."

The Duke of Wellington was at this time (1834) a man sixty-five years old. He was in the prime of strength and health, with a capacity for work which the roughing and the hard service he had undergone in earlier life had not in the least impaired. In spite of the passing unpopularity due to his opposition to the Reform Bill, that led to his being publicly hooted in 1832, he had had many high offices bestowed upon him. He had now been a widower for three years.

CHAPTER II.
FIRST INTERVIEWS

Miss J.'s first letter to the duke was written on the 15th of January, 1834, from Devonshire, where she was spending several months. She was greatly encouraged by receiving an answer from the duke by return post. This letter is unfortunately missing, nor does Miss J. give extracts from it, as from many others, but she indulges in a few comments upon it.

"It was," she says, "dated from Hartford Bridge, Jan. 18, 1833, instead of 1834,—a remarkable circumstance for one so accurate in such particulars. It had also a mistake in one place and a blot in two,—betraying consequently, I should imagine, feelings which overwhelmed him on the receipt of my Epistle; and since it is not at all unlikely that the same Lord who worked in me to write may ('His eyes being in every place') have allowed him to participate in the same in some way known only to Himself, in order to effect His purposes."

Stimulated by this reception of her first venture, Miss J. proceeded further, and on the 24th of April carried a Bible to the town-house of the Duke, and with her own hand gave it into the charge of the servant. She writes a minute account of this occurrence:—

"After earnest prayer the Bible was taken by me, with a fluttering, agitated feeling, to the Duke's gates and delivered into the porter's hands, after asking him if the Duke were at home. He replied, 'Yes, ma'am.' I then asked, 'Is he engaged?' He told me Lord—I forget his name—and Sir Thomas Somebody were with him. I then inquired, 'Who delivers parcels into His Grace's hands?' He respectfully said, 'I do, ma'am.' I rejoined, 'Then you will deliver that,'—returning home, marvelling wherefore such things were permitted, and what the end thereof would be. Of course a suitable note accompanied The Bible."

The Duke was not as prompt in acknowledging "The Bible" as he had been in replying to the first note, for he did not write until the 27th of August. Even then the letter was delayed by a mistake he made in the address, directing the envelope to Mrs., instead of Miss J. She says, "I presume he was in doubt on the subject whether I was a married or single lady, as my signature could not decide on that point." In this note the Duke asks if he may not have the pleasure of meeting her; and Miss J., acting under the advice of her friend Mrs. L., grants his request and expresses her own desire to know him,—"considering it may be The Lord's will to permit personal interviews, proposing under such circumstances to use my influence with him; accordingly craving the Divine blessing thereon."

From the Duke's reply, which follows, it is evident that she had corrected his uncertainty as to whether she was married or single:

Walmer Castle, Oct. 24, 1834.

The Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Miss J. The Duke has received her Letter in which she expresses a desire to see the Duke and that he should call upon her.

The Duke has certainly received one, if not more, letters from Miss J., all written upon the same important subject and with the same beneficent object in view, although the desire to see the Duke was not expressed in them; and the Duke lately acknowledged the receipt of one, and of the book, etc., accompanying it.

Although the Duke is not in the habit of visiting young unmarried ladies with whom he is not acquainted, he will not decline to attend Miss J. He is at present at a distance from London, and he will be detained at Walmer Castle by business in this part of the county for more than a fortnight.

Miss J. will probably write to the Duke again, and will let him know whether she will be in London in a fortnight or three weeks from this time.

This was followed by a note, dated November 8, renewing the expressions of the Duke's desire to meet one who took such an interest in his welfare, and informing Miss J. of his intention to call upon her the twelfth of the month. She was then with her friend Mrs. L. in lodgings in London, and here the Duke presented himself.

The interview was most curious, and is fully described in Miss J.'s Diary. It seems to furnish the key to this correspondence, that lasted over seventeen years. Even the pietistic phrases with which Miss J.'s account is thickly interspersed are of value as demonstrating the woman's real character, and making plain how completely all that concerned her was subordinated to her conception of what constituted the glory of God. The full statement was not written immediately after the Duke's visit, although the main facts were noted in her Diary. The following narrative was committed to paper some years after the occurrence it reports. Her motive in giving particulars is, as she herself states, to protect herself, lest at her death some question might arise as to the precise relations that had existed between the Duke and herself.

She writes:—

"I was about to enter further into a copy of the list of the Duke's letters, in the book with the lock and key, without comment on the past; but I am not permitted to do so, considering the Lord is too jealous for his holy name to suffer me to be exposed to censure which a full knowledge of circumstances would explain and prevent. Consequently, however reluctant (recoiling from the task as I do) to enter into such, the honor due to the holy name so justly declared to be above every name demands the effort; and may HE, as I have upon my knees especially implored him, be with my pen accordingly, influencing it to write only what is agreeable to his unerring will, and likely to obtain the end in view above alluded to, for his holy name's sake! Since he must have influenced the Duke of Wellington to love me above every other lady upon earth from the first moment he beheld me, I am not afraid, as in his sight, to imply such feelings were permitted to exist towards one, through the workings of his power, for the accomplishment of his own ends, be they whatever they may,—which ends, however varying from those I had naturally anticipated, will, I trust, redound far more to His Glory than my anticipations, if realized, could possibly have done.

"I say naturally anticipated! And who can presume to think such were not justifiable when the individual thus brought into my presence by 'the Lord of Lords' for the purpose of receiving instruction from his holy word, never spoke, all power of speech seeming to be withdrawn, until he was compelled to exclaim: 'Oh, how I love you! how I love you!' repeating the same over and over and over again with increasing energy.

"I will proceed to describe this visit, which took place through a declaration on his part in a former letter that the desire to see me sprang from the consideration evinced by me concerning his everlasting welfare. This induced me to receive him accordingly, praying to God to be with me every moment of the time, directing even my dress. This He did, letting me be dressed on the occasion as HE pleased, which, as my Diary relates, was in my old turned dark green merino gown, daily worn,—not permitting me to be decorated in any way likely to attract notice, which, as the employment in view was of so sacred a nature, was neither required nor obtained.

"Having committed myself on my knees into his gracious hand, 'whose I am and whom I serve,' to do with me whatever seemed agreeable to His unerring will, I descended the stairs after the Duke was announced, with these words from dear Mrs. L. following me: 'Now if the Lord should send his arrow into his soul!' (She had fancied from the commencement that God intended to exalt me for the purpose of showing forth his praise, so that this impression must necessarily have been powerfully strengthened by what followed.)

"I entered the Parlour, where, standing before the fire, I beheld anything but the kind of individual personally imagined. I had not had the slightest idea that the Duke has such a beautiful, silver head, such as I always from my childhood admired, inducing me as I approached to offer my hand with additional pleasure, saying, 'This is very kind of Your Grace!' He received my hand graciously and respectfully,—but spoke not a word. I then requested him to be seated, two chairs having been placed for that purpose each side of the fire,—and occupied one of them myself; when recollecting the purport of his visit, I immediately rose, saying, 'I will show you my Treasure!' He also rose, standing until I re-seated myself with this large beautiful Bible in my arms. I placed it upon the table between us, opening it at the Third Chapter of Saint John's Gospel, announcing the same. On arriving at the seventh verse thereof, containing this momentous passage, flowing from the divine lips of him who spoke as never man spake, 'Ye must be born again,' I, as is usual with me, raised my hand, pointing my finger emphatically, with the solemnity so important an occasion demanded, being desirous to impress the same on his mind, when to my astonishment he eagerly seized my hand, exclaiming, as before described: 'Oh, how I love you!' This was his first utterance!…

"Should any one consider strange the expression of agonizing applied to the Duke's feelings at the time he seized my hand, and exclaimed as written, I can only say that such an expression seems hardly doing justice thereto in my estimation. Nor can I find any language adequate to display the same, for God appeared to have struck the Duke dumb on beholding me, giving him no power of speech until he betrayed the effect such had on him. He seemed determined from first to last to overcome or conceal these feelings; yet on one occasion, with great solemnity of voice and manner, on my questioning him concerning who caused him to feel thus towards me, he replied,

"'God Almighty.'"

One hesitates how to comment upon this singular interview. As has been said, the Duke was at the time of its occurrence sixty-five years old, a father and a grandfather. Under no circumstances was he a man likely to fall in love at first sight, even with so beautiful and interesting a woman as Miss J. Yet the length of time that the correspondence endured, as well as the tone he generally observed of interest in her plans, of solicitude for her health, and the readiness with which he renewed his letters when some misunderstanding had for a while interrupted them, all go to prove that he must have had a feeling for her of more than common interest. Miss J. does not demur at avowing her affection for him again and again. In later years, when there had been a decided break between them, she writes of him constantly as "my still-loved, precious Duke."

That the Duke did not have a general reputation for softness of heart, even among those who knew him well, may be gathered from Greville's comments. He styles the Duke:—

"A man of great energy, decision, and authority. The Duke is a very hard man; he takes no notice of any of his family, he never sees his mother, has only visited her two or three times in the last few years, and has not now been to see Lady Anne, though she has been in such affliction for the death of her only son, and he passes her door every time he goes to Strathfieldsaye.... He is a very extraordinary man certainly, and with many contradictions in his character.... He will not endure any one who will not be subservient to him."

Several passages in the Duke's letters to Miss J. written when there had been deaths among his friends or in his family, lead one to modify the estimate made of him by Greville, who was always too apt to let his personal prejudices color his statements. M'Carthy declares that while the Duke was cold and brusque in manner, his affections were warm and enduring. This softer side of his nature was evidently that shown to Miss J. The oddest part of the affair was that he should have betrayed it on such short acquaintance.

On parting from Miss J. the Duke told her he should be absent from town for several days, but would call upon her on his return. At his request she promised to write to him. This she afterwards found "the Lord of Lords" would not permit.

"I attempted to fulfil my promise repeatedly; but felt so restrained that I was obliged at length to relinquish all thought of doing so, considering such was not the will of God."

A letter from the Duke dated December 5 inquires the reason of this silence, and proposes calling again. To this Miss J. sent no answer; but in spite of her silence she received another note, dated London, December 22, announcing the Duke's return, and informing her that he would wait upon her the next day at three o'clock. The following account of this call is from Miss J.'s Diary:—

"During the next visit from the Duke he exclaimed, speaking of his feeling for me, 'This must be for life!' twice over successively. He then asked me if I felt sufficient for him to be with him a whole life, to which I replied: 'If it be the will of God.' I observed much excitement about him, and he in a very hurried manner told me that he was going on a visit to the King. This led me to reply, 'I wish you were going on a visit to The King,' which he evidently interpreted to mean The King of kings. He left me hastily, saying he purposed returning in a short time. In the interim I locked my door and knelt down, beseeching God to be with me and protect me, showing me what he would have me do under such marvellous circumstances. Forgetting that the door was fastened, I was obliged on the Duke's return to explain wherefore, stating that it is written, 'When thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly;' adding, 'Therefore I locked the door when you were gone, Your Grace, to kneel down and ask God to take care of me.' On hearing this his eyes dropped, but he said nothing. On his asking me why I had not written to him during his absence from town, I replied, 'Because God would not let me;' when his eyes again fell, and he was silent."

CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST DISCORD

The Duke was again summoned out of town before he had the opportunity to repeat his call. He promised, however, to attend Miss J. upon his return at the end of a week. He was detained longer than he had anticipated, and meanwhile reflection appears to have made Miss J. doubt the propriety of her meeting him again. She writes an account of her meditations upon this subject in her Diary, and follows it with a copy of the letter she wrote to the Duke:—

"It is now this day a fortnight since the Duke paid me the visit attended by the circumstances described, which not only occasioned suffering immediately after his departure of no common nature, but daily brought with it an increasing unwillingness to submit to another interview. As this at length approached I was led to dread it and consequently to meditate on what The Will of the Lord might be. Whilst thus employed and looking up for help and guidance, these blessed promises came, 'In Me is the Help.' 'I will uphold thee,' after which I slept in peace. The following morning, (yesterday) I rose, much strengthened in spirit and prayed that I might be given grace to fulfil all the good pleasure of God with regard to one inexpressibly dear to my soul.

"I then rose from my knees, dressed me, and without the slightest idea what I was about to do descended into the parlor, which I had no sooner entered than a powerful feeling possessed me to write to the Duke, and entreat he would desist visiting me, which accordingly I was compelled to do. In order to know whether he was in town, I sent for a Newspaper, thereby learning that he arrived the day before, consequently that in two hours I could prevent a visit. As the time he mentioned as that of his stay from Town had doubly elapsed I concluded he would in all probability call that day and thus subject me to another trying visit, if immediate measures were not taken to prevent it. Therefore, I wrote on the letter 'Put in before 4 o'clock,' in which case it is to be hoped he would receive it at 6,—or at the furthest 8 o'clock, and I thus feel myself delivered from the anticipation of a visit which under present circumstances could only have been productive of a repetition of feelings I am most anxious to avoid."

Saturday, Jan. 10, 1835.

My Lord Duke,—Finding my peace, that perfect peace which for so many years I have almost uninterruptedly enjoyed interfered with by your visits,—visits which under present circumstances I cannot feel justified in receiving, as they are of so different a nature from those I anticipated when I gave you permission to call upon me,—I think it my duty to entreat they should cease.

My agitation on Sunday week during and after your departure called forth reflections which actuate my present conduct. I do not consider it right personally to place myself so fully and confidentially in the power of one, who, however honorable and noble, occasionally seems to forget he is confided in by a Being who feels herself entitled even in the sight of God, not only to the appellation of virtuous, in the strictest acceptation of the word,—but righteous. This appellation as far exceeds the former in value as the heavens do the earth, as the one is to be found, I trust, frequently in the unregenerate, whilst the latter springs solely from above.

Pray do not imagine by the step now taken that I am incapable of duly appreciating your valued affection!—for I hesitate not to declare there breathes not the Being so dear to me as yourself. Yet, whilst I make this declaration and consequently admit that all the world are as nothing in comparison with you,—I consider it equally my duty to add that however dear God may have made you to me—(and I feel it is His Work, Why or Wherefore time must explain) you are as nothing in comparison with CHRIST, Whose honor I consider concerned, being, I glory to say His openly acknowledged, however unworthy, servant, And for Whose sake consequently I have come to the determination of exercising the self denial herein required.

That you could ever think of Me, notwithstanding your occasional forgetfulness,—with any other than the most honorable of feelings, would of course be as impossible as to imagine you could at pleasure bring the heavens down under your feet or turn the Sun out of his course, since both would be more likely than that I could even for a single moment forget the high end for which I was created, namely, to glorify His Holy Name Who has redeemed me with His precious Blood, and rather than dishonor it I should prefer the sufferings of Eternal torments!

Trusting that the step thus taken may be received by Your Grace in the light duty both to God and myself demand, I will not intrude upon your time further than to assure you that should any spiritual advice from me be considered needful either in sickness or health, it will always be at your service.

With an assurance of remembering you from time to time when I approach His Throne (Who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity) and Who looketh into the deepest recesses of the human heart, I beg to subscribe myself that which in reality I trust you believe I am, namely,

Your Grace's Most faithful friend

In The Lord.

A. J.

The Duke's answer was a strong contrast to this effusion.

London, Jan. 10, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I have received your letter and enclosures. I beg to remind you of what I said to you the second day that I saw you; and if you recollect it you will not be surprised at my telling you that I entirely concur in the intention which you have communicated to me.

I am obliged to you for what you have sent me; and I am

Ever Yours Most Sincerely,

Wellington.

This note, although courteous in form and substance, brought forth from Miss J. a reply that, beginning mildly, ended in scathing terms.

Monday, Jan. 12, 1835.

My Lord Duke,—I have endeavored in vain to recollect what you allude to as having said on the second visit paid me, remembering nothing but what appeared honorable. I supposed it impossible that there breathed a being who could dare presume to make any profession of affection for me under opposite circumstances, feeling as I do, that I should confer as high an honor on a Prince in bestowing my hand on him as he could on me in receiving it—but if it be really possible that I have mistaken Your Grace's feelings I should only degrade my own by adding more than that I deliver you into His Hands that "judgeth righteously" who declares to His children the following words—"Ye are the temples of the Holy Ghost," to which is immediately added "Whosoever therefore defileth the Temple of God, him will I destroy" again,—"Take heed that ye offend not one of these little ones," "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea."

Trusting that the Lord will bestow upon you that repentance which is not to be repented of I submit the foregoing scriptures to your prayerful consideration and subscribe myself that which it is the highest honor to be considered, however unworthy of the same I may be and am,

A Servant of Christ,

A. J.

Having on further consideration, I fear found out that to which you have alluded with such cool, insulting, presuming deliberation in your note, as being uttered during your second visit, I have at its remembrance risen in the night with all those indignant feelings insult demands, to assure you that had I understood the motives which actuated you to make such an abhorrent, disgraceful enquiry, one I could not degrade my pen or self by giving place on paper, however Your Grace may and have degraded yourself by utterance of the same, I should at the moment such escaped your lips have spurned you from me as a serpent whose sting was capable of producing not only instantaneous but Eternal death! Such a horror should I have had of one who until now has possessed a share of my affection even surprising to myself—an affection as pure and sincere as it was disinterested, but Alas! under present circumstances with the vail withdrawn from my eyes what a change of feeling exists! such as would incline me if I did not believe that it was the will of God we should have met to mourn deeply at ever having desired it.

In again however reluctantly alluding to the hateful enquiry above noticed—one at the bare utterance of which it is a mercy that God "in whose hands your breath is" knowing your despicable motives (since all hearts are open in His sight and from whom no secrets are hid however ignorant I may have been and was of the same) did not in His wrath strike you dead at my feet. I beg to remind you of my answer which ought, yea, must in itself have convinced you at the time of my misunderstanding your meaning—it being in the following words—"If it be the will of God;" for surely you could never for a moment suppose it to be His will whose purity is such that he charges even His angels with folly that I, his devoted child and servant, should bring such deep dishonor on His holy name as to—but my pen with every feeling of my offended nature recoils from even writing, much less submitting to such abhorrent degradation which none but most polluted lips could ever dare to vent.

The answer was given thus hesitatingly although at the time I was laboring under impressions of its being called forth by the highest and most honorable intentions on your part. And why thus hesitatingly? you would ask. Because I was not and am not quite satisfied that under any circumstances the regenerate soul can be justified in the sight of God in uniting itself to the unregenerate, it being written "Be not unequally yoked with unbelievers," also, "How can two walk together unless they be agreed?"

Thus you will perceive that when laboring under the most favorable impression of your upright intentions, notwithstanding your rank, etc., all of which with me are beheld in the utter nothingness such empty things deserve, I should have hesitated until I perceived in you that change of heart so necessary to salvation, without which "no man can see the Lord," fearing I ought not to consent even under the most flattering circumstances to partake in any outward honors likely to bring the disapprobation of God.

When I reflect on my view of the case and then in a moment the distressing thought of one so sinful on your part darts like a dagger into my offended spirit, I feel that I should not be surprised (although rest assured, I do not desire it,) at any vengeance God saw fit to shower down for such a dreadful intention upon Your Grace's head. Oh may His Holy Spirit convince you of the heinousness of the sin in question, leading you from darkness to light and from "the power of Satan" (under whose influence you so evidently at present are,) "unto God" in order that your transgressions may be blotted out in the Blood of the Lamb—and that consequently the present—and if I mistake not the greatest sin as far as thought may be concerned in God's sight, it being of so aggravated a nature arising from the consideration of the motives which first actuated me to address you and afterwards receive Your Grace—namely, your eternal happiness—may never be laid to your charge. In order that such may not be the case it will be necessary that you should experience that "Repentance unto life not to be repented of" which, if felt, would bring with it an unhesitating desire to apologize with remorse and anguish for the iniquity herein noticed and which can never be erased from my memory until you do, feeling it a respect due to myself and Religion. I deliver you on this second and last occasion,—for of course I here take a final leave of one I can never wish to behold again under present circumstances,—once more into His Hands who "is no respecter of persons," beseeching Him to grant you not only repentance but forgiveness. I subscribe myself by a title as far exceeding any Your Grace can possess as the Heavens do the earth and which I would neither exchange nor resign to become the Empress of a thousand worlds,

A Servant of Christ and a Child of God,

A. J.

"After I had written this letter and was meditating, these precious words came 'FEAR NOT, for I am with thee, be not dismayed, for I am thy God, I will strengthen thee, I will help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the Right Arm of My Righteousness'—and thus upheld who can faint? thus upheld who can despair? O my Heavenly Father, strengthen me in the 'inner man' more and more, I beseech Thee, to endure this and any other trial Thou in Thine unerring wisdom mayest see fit; anxious for nothing but to fulfil Thy will in all things, knowing that the path of duty is the path of peace: also that it is through 'much tribulation we must enter the Kingdom' that glorious Kingdom where 'the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.' Sharp as this trial is, I have to repeat my frequently acknowledged experience of finding my strength equal to my day—or in other words the fulfilment of this Scripture 'Thy strength is made perfect in weakness.'

"Tuesday, Jan. 13, 1835. Last night after experiencing and penning the feelings herein described, I retired to rest and slept sweetly and peacefully until about three o'clock—when I awoke with a disinclination to sleep again—consequently adverted in thought to my late distressing trials and whilst thus occupied felt assured what I had suggested must have been that to which the Duke alludes with such daring effrontery! I then rose, put on my dressing gown and wrote the language of my indignant soul as far as such could be painted! but a faint picture at best! Alas! that one so esteemed should give such cause to show his unworthiness. But it is doubtlessly permitted for some end which poor blind mortals cannot penetrate, therefore let me not murmur, but bless God who has thought me worthy whilst so unworthy to rank among that blessed number described by the angel to Saint John as having 'come out of much tribulation and washed their robes and made them white in the Blood of The Lamb.' This may stand as the greatest trial I ever had! Yet I am so wonderfully upheld, agreeably to the gracious promise previously given, that I can hardly believe such degrading circumstances exist! Oh! What an awful thing that one so high in power is afraid to do that which can call forth the gaze and disapprobation of a sinful, dying, misjudging world, yet fearless of committing the most dreadful crime before Him 'Who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity.' O may the letter just about to be sent be permitted to sink deep into his rebellious soul calling it from darkness to light and from the power of Satan unto God. Then indeed we shall have cause to declare the goodness of God in thus permitting (however revolting and distressing,) late occurrences to take place! And since He can bring good out of evil, I submit all that has transpired to His gracious, condescending and unerring governance for this purpose, knowing that He can bring 'light out of darkness and make crooked things straight.' O I can never be sufficiently grateful for the powerful strength which so powerfully upholds me! and trust the same will be a means among His other innumerable, unmerited blessings of causing me to glorify His Holy Name with the best powers of my soul and body under whatever trials or sorrows may be yet in store for me! Oh may each and all tend to ripen me 'for an inheritance among the saints in light for Christ's sake!'

"Since the above was written I have indeed in a few hours had additional cause for gratitude and love to God, having received a letter from the Duke apologizing in every way I could expect, considering all circumstances, for occasioning my displeasure. Oh! how gracious is the Lord of Heaven and Earth thus to undertake for so unworthy a worm! for which I praise Thee, I bless Thee, I magnify Thee to Whom all power, majesty and dominion belong!"

The Duke's letter of apology is full of calm dignity, but one regrets that the accusation was not dismissed with a show, at least, of righteous indignation.

London, Jan. 13, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I beg your pardon if I have written a line or used an expression which could annoy you. Believe me; it is the thing of all others that I would wish to avoid! And that there is nobody more strongly impressed than I am with veneration for your Virtues, attainments and Sentiments!

Believe me Ever Yours

Most sincerely,

Wellington.

This quarrel is of chief interest as indicating that Miss J.'s anxiety for the Duke's soul was not altogether disinterested. If it had been, her resentment at his gallantry would hardly have been expressed in this manner. It is evident that to her mind, the Duke had been trifling with her. His kindly reception of her efforts to promote his "everlasting welfare" had raised hopes that would have seemed absurd to any one of every-day common-sense. She asserts openly in several places in her Diary that she believed it was the will of God that she should become the wife of the Duke.

In this persuasion she was confirmed by her friend Mrs. L.; and to her and to Miss J. there was nothing unreasonable in the expectation. The latter considered herself no whit inferior to the Duke in any respect, as she takes pains to affirm. Instances of this may be given from her Diary. She says:—

"I was impressed throughout my correspondence with and knowledge of the Duke with a feeling that the end God had in view was my exaltation for His Glory, or in other words to show forth His power.... I attach so little importance to rank or worldly grandeur, that I should have considered I conferred as high an honor on the Duke in bestowing my hand as he would in receiving it, of which he was well aware!"

Miss J. judged herself to be actuated by no worldly motives in her desire for such promotion. She cleverly concealed the mundane nature of her aspirations even from herself. Throughout, her declaration is that her sole aim in life has invariably been, "Glorify Thyself in Me!" By her elevation to a position where she will be a centre of observation she hopes to influence those ungodly souls by whom she will be surrounded, and to imbue them with true piety. She writes:—

"I in my turn was permitted to love the Duke, but the honor and glory of God were ever my consideration. Consequently such affection of mine being of so opposite a nature to his own was principally displayed in my watchful solicitude for his everlasting welfare, concerning which I was firm and faithful throughout, believing God would convert him eventually, causing him to shine forth gloriously in His adorable service. As in that case the erroneous impressions in my mind would in all probability have been verified, I looked forward to becoming as 'a city set on a hill which cannot be hid,' conceiving such exaltation would admit of showing forth His praises openly before men. But I doubt not that I am far happier thus situated, enjoying a lively sense of His Divine, Adorable presence than I could possibly have had under the turmoil attending more exalted circumstances. As the poor Duke evidently did everything in his power to overcome the feelings referred to, I am aware the World could form no idea of the extent or power of the same without this explanation from my pen."

The Duke's affection for Miss J. can hardly have been altogether the work of her imagination. Besides the interview copied in her Diary, there is the evidence of the correspondence. True, his epistles are lacking in open protestations of devotion. Miss J. herself remarks that the Duke's letters were always cautiously written. He was too much a man of the world to run the risk of compromising himself in black and white. But the very existence of this correspondence, extending over a period of seventeen years, is a strong argument in favor of his having felt for her a remarkably warm friendship at the least.

It can hardly be supposed that the Duke seriously intended to marry Miss J. As he himself writes to her,—

"I should not treat you as I should wish to be treated myself. The commands of all others which we ought to obey are those dictated to us by our social relations. What would be said, if I, a man of seventy years of age, nearly, were to take in marriage a lady young enough to be my Granddaughter?"

Upon this Miss J. comments:—

"Alas! Alas! how deceitful is the human heart! For I am convinced that although the Duke wrote thus, there was not a moment during our acquaintance when if I had not been by the Grace of God what I was and am that he would have thought I was too young to bow down before me with the most sinful adulation."

What was either a flirtation or a manifestation of fatherly fondness on the part of the Duke was a grand passion to Miss J. Perhaps her vanity was as deeply touched as her heart; but those who knew her best declared that never until the Duke's death did she resign all hope of becoming the Duchess of Wellington.

In another part of her Diary she writes, with the diffuseness and reiteration that mark her style:—

"That I loved the Duke I am not ashamed to say, God knows, and that too with the purest affection. Consequently when he asked me if I felt sufficient to be with him a whole life, (which was the question referred to in that odious letter, for odious indeed it still appears in my sight, yea, increasingly so with time, for I recoil with unspeakable horror from the thought that I could be thus enquired of without being clearly comprehended), I replied to the same in the following words, 'If it be the will of God,' not supposing for a moment, as expressed, that such an enquiry could be made of one with God's Holy Book before me, to which I had been attracting his attention with all the reverence and veneration so holy an employment demanded, except under intentions the most honorable. This idea many would perhaps say must have arisen from my want of knowledge of mankind and the world etc. But in that case how was it that dear Mrs. L–, a perfect woman of the world in her early life, could think the same and consequently encourage such views?"

Long after the Duke had wearied of his passing fancy Miss J. clung to the idea that she could yet draw him to her. Her secluded life, given up to good works and pious meditations, and still later her confirmed ill-health, heightened her unworldliness, and rendered it more than ever difficult for her to see the impossibility of what in the eyes of the Duke and his family and friends would have been a misalliance.

It is perhaps uncharitable to suppose that Miss J. intended by her assumed reluctance to grant the Duke a third interview to force him to make a formal declaration of his intentions and ask her hand in marriage. If this, however, was her plan, it met with a signal failure. Clearly nothing was farther from the Duke's thoughts than to make himself the butt of popular ridicule by taking a wife forty-five years younger than himself, and of retired even though perfectly respectable social position. Besides that, it can hardly be wondered at if the Duke, a man free from binding domestic ties, were not in a humor to place permanently at his elbow so strict a mentor as Miss J., no matter how pretty she might be. The prudishness and piety that were fascinating in a beautiful woman seldom seen, would wax wearisome in the most charming creature bound to him by indissoluble ties.

CHAPTER IV.
SMOOTH WATERS

London, June 2, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I received your Note. We perfectly understand each other; and with your permission I will call upon you to-morrow at three o'clock.

There is only one point that I wish to explain in reference to our last meeting. There might have been a difference of Manner. There was none of feeling.

You told me that you had written to me; and I certainly was anxious to possess your Letters. You certainly wished to take them out of the Paquet; but if I had thought that your reluctance to give them was deeply felt, you may rely upon it that I would not have pressed to have them.

At all events my perusal of them has occasioned an explanation which can do no Harm.

Believe me ever Yours most sincerely

W.

From this it appears that the personal interviews had recommenced. The letters now follow one another closely.

London, June 15, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I have received your Letter of this Day, for which I return many thanks.

I was not able to go to see you last week as I intended. I was confined to my Home by Indisposition for some days; and I was much occupied. I am going out of town to-morrow. But I hope to be able to go to see [sic] on Saturday at three o'clock if you should not at that time have left town for the Seaside?

I will bring with me the Letters and Books which you lent me. I have read that one which you wish that I should return to you.

If you should go before I shall see you again I hope that you will let me know where.

Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

Wellington.

Miss J. states that the book here alluded to was an account of the conversion of the criminal Cook, and touches upon her instrumentality in bringing about this result.

London, June 22nd, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I have read all your Letters since I saw you on Saturday. Why do you not send each of them to me when you write it?

I think that you will have perceived on Saturday that you was mistaken in the Notion under which you wrote some of them.

We may differ in opinion and I may be in Error. But I assure you that I cannot feel otherwise than grateful to you for your kindness to me; and respect and veneration for the Motives for it.

Let me know before you go out of town that I may not misdirect a Letter to you.

Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely,

Wellington.

In the latter part of June Miss J. went to Ramsgate. The Duke's letter of July 1st is directed there:—

London, July 1st, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I am very sorry if in my Letter of Monday I should have said a Word which could have hurt your feelings. I think that by this time you ought to be convinced that I could not intend to do so.

I might have done so erroneously. I might have been misled by circumstances. But I could not willingly hurt the feelings of any body.

In this particular case you forget that you asked the Question whether your letters were not overweight. I told you that they were.

I likewise informed you of a Rule which we are all under the necessity of adopting; that is of returning Letters over weight; because too many Persons are in the habit of thinking that they may inclose their Letters to a well known Person; and the Charge becomes enormous. Under these circumstances my Porter has the usual order not to take in Letters overweight; which he generally returns; unless I should happen to be in the House when he enquires. I stated the fact very shortly, as I generally do; in answer to a question from yourself; and I pointed out to you that if you desired to write to me more than you could put in two Sheets, you should put your Letter in two or three or more covers.

You must not be so susceptible. Rely upon it, that many many Years will pass over your Head; before I shall intentionally offend you.

Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

W.

July 7, 1835.

I have received your two Letters My Dear Miss J., and according to your desire I write immediately.

My writing is not very legible by a person not accustomed to it. But I never could have intended to apply the word mistrust to you.

You expressed apprehension that your Letters might be seen by a third person; as they might have been returned to the Post Office.

I did not write the word relatives but relations, and that not in the meaning of relatives. I adverted to your ordinary relations with other persons, which I said must be attended by some observance of their Habits and Customs.

However, there is an end of this matter. I hope that your writing to me will never be disturbed again by any checks or difficulties; or expressions which I assure you can never be intended to convey any meaning but one of kindness towards you, and of admiration of your Talents, your character and your Devotion to what is good. Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

W.

Of the following letters Miss J. gives extracts in her Diary. There are few of his epistles in which the Duke fails to express his thanks to Miss J. for her kindness in writing to him. However gratifying this may have been to her, the constant repetition becomes monotonous to the indifferent reader. Miss J. writes:—

"The next letter from His Grace is dated July 11th, 1835, in which he writes—'You are mistaken in thinking that I at all disapprove of the independence of character and conduct which I had observed. I hope that you may never feel otherwise towards me than in the State of Independence to say and write to me whatever your mind may suggest.'

"In his letter of July 18th the Duke writes—'I thank you for your Letter received this morning. What I meant by reflection was not to call your attention to anything particularly passing in the world, but to the impressions made upon your own mind by any circumstance you might have observed.–You will tell me that God will direct you. So He will. But He has given us a Mind, the power of comparing and reflecting, of deciding what is true and what is false and He requires us to exercise our judgment in Matters on which He has given us the capability of forming judgment. You'll tell me that I am acting your part and teaching you instead of attending to you. But I beg you observe it is only in explanation of what I wrote to you in a former letter upon the subject of your change of opinion respecting an individual at Ramsgate.'

"The Duke here refers to a Preacher who had spoken in the open air at Ramsgate of whom I had previously written."

"The Duke's next letter implies that he understood I was about to return to Town, inducing him to express an intention of calling on me but such was not the will of The Lord of Lords, therefore I did not accede to it, but proceeded expeditiously from Ramsgate to Harrowgate. Here His Grace's letters followed me."

London, July 24th, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I received your Letter by the Post written on Wednesday; and have this day received that written in London to inform me that you was about to go to Harrowgate. I am much obliged to you for both.

It is true that I am in the habit of writing Answers to all Letters. But I feel great satisfaction in writing to some; to those in particular from whom I am desirous of receiving Letters; and who express a Desire to hear from me.

I am very glad that you corrected your first Impressions respecting your Preacher. I believe that we cannot too frequently pass in review our opinions upon what passes before us. We shall find ourselves frequently in Error.

I sincerely hope that the Waters of Harrowgate, may have the effect of restoring Your Health entirely. Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

W.

London, August 3, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I have received your letter of the 31st and I am really much concerned to learn that I have again created a feeling of displeasure in your Mind by having omitted to notice the Inconvenience which you felt upon your Journey to Harrowgate.

There is always Inconvenience in travelling in a Stage Coach. It cannot be otherwise. Indeed it is wonderful that there should be so little; and I must observe that there is less of a physical and personal Nature in travelling in this Manner in England than elsewhere. The Inconvenience felt in England is of a moral and mental description. It is formed of the trash and nonsense which a traveller is condemned to hear in these vehicles; because every body talks; and says not what he thinks but what the fancy of the Moment suggests. For this which was the particular Inconvenience which you suffered upon this Journey, there is no remedy, but Patience; and I would add Silence.

You would practice neither. You would not sit patiently and hear the stupid Irreligion of the Talker; you would reply to Him; and this occasioned much of the Annoyance which occurred.

I find that I am again taking your part, instead of my own. I do so in my own satisfaction. If you are not satisfied with my observations, you will at least perceive that I had read, nay more reflected upon your Letter and the account you gave of yourself.

But why should you torment yourself by thinking that I did not read, and did not care for what you represented that you suffered. You must be aware that you are mistaken! Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

W.

"I presume from the Duke's next letter that I had given him a description of my interview and acquaintance with Major and Mrs. P. as he therein writes—'I am very happy that you have again seen Major and Mrs. P. I don't wonder that they should have been desirous of finding you.'

"In his next, dated the 4th, he writes—'I hope, indeed I am certain that you will not cease to write to me what you feel and that you will excuse me if I sometimes venture to act your part although not exactly in your department. I came down to the house of Lords directly after the Post arrived and I am writing to you from thence.' Judging by the next letter, dated August 6th, I had made some enquiry concerning Major P. as the Duke replies thus, 'I don't recollect Major P. But as nearly every officer in the Army who has served has served with me I don't doubt that he has. Ask him in what regiment he served.'"

London, August 7, 1835.

My dear Miss J.,—I beg pardon again for having omitted to notice the personal Inconvenience you suffered in your Journey to and your arrival in Harrowgate. I should have thought the impertinent Blasphemy of the Travellers in the Stage Coach would have annoyed you more than any personal inconvenience.

I see no chance of my quitting London; or of having one moment's respite from Business. I passed twelve Hours yesterday; and I am going to pass twelve Hours this day in the House of Peers. I hope therefore that I shall see you even though your stay in Harrowgate should be prolonged more than you expect.

Believe me Ever Yours most sincerely

W.

This, with the other letters given entire, is copied from the original MS. in the Duke's handwriting. Miss J. quotes only a line from the above, and goes on to one written the next day:—

"In that dated the 8th of August the Duke writes 'I don't consider with you that it is necessary to enter into a disputation with every wandering Blasphemer—much must depend upon the circumstances. But I must say that the Meekness of the Christian is better displayed by silence on such an occasion, and more good is done by contempt than by any disputation. However I may be wrong and you right and I only suggest my own opinion.'

"In the Duke's letter dated August 8th he alludes kindly to my health, adding 'I am very much flattered by your letters but I hope that you will not think it necessary to write when it will produce pain or uneasiness to make such an exertion. As long as your silence will not be attributed to your being offended at anything I may have done or written, or may have omitted I shall regret it as it will prove to me that you are indisposed but I shall not feel that you are displeased.' By the Duke's next letter, dated August 12th, I presume I had referred to his time being so much occupied as he in reply writes 'It is true that I am very much occupied, and cannot tell when I shall be less so. But I am at all times happy to hear from you and to write you an answer in return.'

"In the Duke's little lecturing letter of the 13th of August he writes; 'I beg you not to hesitate about writing to me whenever it can be agreeable to you. I am not capable of answering you and quoting Chapter and verse in support of my answer but I take from your own letter a word which I think supports my opinion, "Charity beareth all things." You will quote much to show that you ought to enter the lists upon every occasion that offers or rather that is intruded upon you, etc, etc, etc. You see that I am fast taking your part from you.'

"O that you could! for it was my desire that the Duke should become a Paul in his generation, sitting at his feet accordingly.

"In the Duke's letter of the 14th of August he writes—'My attendance in the House of Lords is not at this moment so constant as it was some days ago. Yet its business occupies much of my time in the morning but I have some for other purposes.'

"By the Duke's letter of the 17th I must have assured him of my intention to return to Town—for he writes—'I shall not have left London when you will return and I will certainly call upon you as soon as I shall have heard where you will be. I shall still be as I am now, much occupied with the Business of Parliament but I don't doubt that I shall be able to find a moment to call upon you either in the morning or the evening.'

"In the Duke's letter of the 18th he kindly advises me not to travel at night fearing it may prove injurious adding 'I have more experience than most persons in travelling.'

"In the Duke's letter of August 19th he writes as follows—'I write to you constantly in return for your letters and I find time to do so without inconvenience, but I am afraid that I shall not be able to go to see you with so much fidelity. A visit takes time, to write a letter is an affair of a few minutes. I am never in Town excepting during the sitting of Parliament and then only when there is much business to be transacted which occupies my whole time.'

"By the Duke's of the 20th I must have complained of the worldliness, etc. around me for he writes after remarking thereon; 'But if you should recover your health there you must not mind the annoyance of the irregularities of what is called the Company.' The Duke kindly says in his next, dated August 21st, 'I hope you are not coming away sooner than is good for you.'

"In the Duke's next letter of the 22nd of August he writes—'I shall expect to hear from you when you will arrive and will be settled in London and I will pay you a visit as soon afterwards as it will be in my power.'

"The next letter from the Duke is dated August 26th, implying he proposed calling when in his power, but adds 'You arrive at a moment in which I am much occupied. You are at some distance from hence; and I don't think that from nine in the morning till 12 at night I could easily find half an hour which I can call my own and at my disposition.'

"In the Duke's letter of the 27th he writes; 'I will endeavor to call upon you this day before three. I cannot afterwards. If I should call when you don't expect me I will send up that I am the Gentleman to whom you wrote; unless I should previously hear from you that I may mention my Name.'

"Which of course I did not allow, as it was not my desire to be noticed in the neighborhood, shrinking from it then, as I do now, when it can be avoided. I recollect the Duke's visit well for he had to wait until I was dressed by dear Mrs. L. who was in the house at the time, as usual, for I think he came earlier than I had expected. Consequently in his next of the 29th he writes; 'I don't see why you are to take the trouble of dressing to receive me. But that is your own affair. If you should do so I can wait with Patience.'

"This was very pretty in His Grace, but as my dress was always very simple, it did not require any great exercise of that virtue.

"By the Duke's next letter of Sept. 1st I fear another letter is missing as he writes therein 'Mine of yesterday morning will have informed you that I was obliged to attend the King at Windsor on Saturday and a part of His family at Kew on Sunday.—I did not say that all my time was passed in the House of Lords. Much of it is certainly passed out of the House, but a great part of it is passed in receiving and talking to the Hundreds, I may say, of the persons who have business in the House and come to converse on the business with me.'

"In the Duke's next letter of Sept. 4th he writes; 'I received this morning your letter of yesterday, but have not received the Tract that you mention. It is possibly too heavy for the 2nd Post.'

"Perhaps this was the case, as I do not recollect hearing any more of it. The next letter from His Grace is dated the same, Sept. 4th, Noon, in which he writes; 'I will endeavor to fix and let you know the time in which I can wait upon you again.'

"The Duke's next is dated Sept. 5th, in which he writes; 'I was in the House of Lords from 5 in the evening till two this morning. I am much obliged to you for the Tract which I will return as soon as I shall have perused it.' I presume this must have been a little book entitled The Joy of Israel as I only lent that to people, its having been a Gift, for it is still in my possession. In the Duke's next, dated Sept. 7th, the Duke writes—'I have received your letter written on Saturday for which I return you many thanks. I am very sorry that I am so much occupied as to be unable to make my acknowledgments in person.'

"The Duke's next letter of Sept. 9th acknowledges one from me wherein I presume I have shown submission to the Divine will concerning the difficulty attending his visits for he writes;

"'This could not be otherwise. In the mean time be assured that I am anxious to have the pleasure and benefit of conversing with you as often as it may be in my power to see you.'"

A few passages taken from Miss J.'s Diary at this time are interesting as displaying the intimate friendship that at this period existed between her and the Duke. On the 6th of September she writes:—

"I have been here (in London,) nearly a fortnight, yet have seen the Duke only twice, but receive letters daily,—and last night a particularly kind one. I have been expecting him, but he comes not, being so occupied with his Parliamentary business. What can I say to such things but this,—'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?' and, 'Has HE not a right to do what HE will with His own?'

"September 10th. I wrote to the Duke to-day and hope the Lord will permit him to receive and answer it kindly. The Subject on which I addressed him was on Christ becoming sin for us and bearing the wrath of the Father. O Lord, I pray Thee, have mercy upon his precious soul!

"September 14th. I shall have been here three weeks to morrow, during which I have seen the Duke four times, and will just allude to the subjects introduced during each visit.

"The first brought with it remarks on true Nobility, obliging me to declare it is to be found only in Christ and His Righteousness in man. I mentioned what St. Paul said when contrasting the Bereans with the Thessalonians, namely, 'These were more noble than those in Thessalonica in that they received the word with all readiness

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