De Lagaraye.

Oh, Madame! I have lost my benefactor, my father, my guide! … His death was worthy of his life. The melancholy account, which rends my heart, can alone relieve it and procure the only consolation it is susceptible of at this dreadful moment … Oh! can I better honour his memory, than by relating with fidelity his actions and his discourse, which will raise him higher in your estimation?

I informed you, Madame, in my last letter, that I then had some hope, but two days after I lost it intirely. Last Monday, Mons. de Lagaraye would not permit me to sit up with him; I lay in an adjoining closet. About four o'clock in the morning I was called, and informed he was much worse. I found him in a swoon and in Madame de Lagaraye's arms; which lasted for a considerable time. When he came to himself, his pulse became pretty good, which was thought a favourable circumstance. At six he desired we would quit the room and leave the Priest and him together. We went into his anti-chamber, and, in about an hour, the folding doors opening, judge, Madame, our surprize, on seeing his servants carrying him in a great chair; he just stopped, and told us he was going to visit his sick. These words struck us all with the same idea, that they were meant as his last adieu, which drew tears from every one in the room … Mons. de Lagaraye desired me to announce his visit in the infirmary, that his presence might not alarm the invalids; which proved a very necessary caution, for they were transported beyond expression, all concluding that Mons. de Lagaraye was out of danger. Many exclaimed, now is life desirable! … Others offered up to Heaven their most fervent prayers, expressive of their gratitude and joy. All renewed their promises to God of accomplishing their different vows for the re-establishment of their benefactor's health.