made ready to accompany you by Mr. G. At this time my benefit took place but by being excluded on your account from all my former advantages it was by no means so productive as I had been accustomed to experience.
You gave on my night at the box door £50 the manner of conferring this gift I own much surprised me, as I had often received presents from many generous friends, but whose delicacy always prompted them to convey their favours in a very different manner: this seeming gift to me, like the profits from your reading Hamlet at Cork, was in the same manner by Mr. G.'s gallantry towards you rendered unavailable as the repairing our curricle, sending for and keeping our horses at an increased expense in town; expenses, &c. &c. of Mr. G.'s journeys to and from Cork, came in the whole amount to upwards of £60.
The week before you left town you received letters informing you that Miss Siddons, your daughter, was very ill; you were then reading Paradise Lost at the Lying-in-Hospital rooms, and had engaged to give the last night's receipt to the charity.
The day before it was to take place, Miss W. received a letter saying Miss S. was past all hopes of recovery, and urging you to return home; she asked my advice how she should act, and we both agreed that as it was but one day's delay it would be best to defer the sad news until after the charity night was over. On your return home that night we gave you those letters to read; you seemed much affected by them, but never can I describe my astonishment when, instead of instantly resolving to return home, you said that you thought your honour obliged you to

fulfil your engagement at Cork. You set out the next day for thence accompanied by Mr. G.; all who knew the circumstances were disgusted at such conduct, and it was so much the subject of reprobation that you know it was openly censured in the newspapers ; letters came every day, (which I sent you) pressing your return home. By this time you had performed a few nights to very indifferent houses, and getting some way out of the engagement you at last resolved to leave Ireland. The event was your daughter's death before you could reach home.
I shall now, Madam, pause to make a few observations on your conduct, as it appeared to me, ignorant as I then was of the shameful truth.
I freely confess it was such as had so entirely sunk you in my estimation, that from that period I never could esteem you as I had done. On your return to England you constantly wrote to Mr. G. and sometimes to me; your letters to me were filled with the most unbounded expressions of friendship. About the middle of that summer you wrote to Mr. G. to say you had got for me an engagement at Covent Garden, mentioning the terms, &c. &c. which I thought (compared with their usual engagements) a very indifferent one; but Mr. G. who wished for nothing so earnestly as to go to England, insisted on my accepting it, and persuaded me to write you a letter of thanks on the subject, much against my feelings; the engagement was not to take place until the winter twelvemonth. The following spring Mr. G. went to London to endeavour to establish himself in some pursuit, against the time I should follow him.