One evening, as I was sitting with Mr. Senwill, one of Mr. Monkerton's friends, who was waiting for his return home, and who seldom seemed dissatisfied with my company, I was so absorbed in my melancholy apprehensions, that the conversation flagged extremely; and he, walking about the room, took up some letters, which had come by the post for Mr. Monkerton; and looking at them, asked me, if I ever saw a worse hand than Mr. —'s, shewing one of them to me. This Mr. — was the chief of Mr. Monkerton's guardians. I answered, that the hand was indeed a vile one; but it could not be that gentleman's, for it came by the post; and shewed him the mark of York upon it; whereas he was in London.

Mr. Senwill told me, I must be mistaken in that particular; for Mr. — had been at his country seat near two months.

This startled me extremely; but I persisted in my assertion, that I had very lately heard Mr. Monkerton mention having just parted with him, and three other gentlemen, whom I named, and who were Mr. Monkerton's other guardians.

‘I have been in doubt,’ said Mr. Senwill, ‘for an hour past, whether you were not asleep; but I am now convinced of it, for I find you dream. One of the gentlemen you mention has not been in town this year; another came only to deliver up his trust to Mr. Monkerton, and returned directly into the country; and the others, upon my honour, have long ago left London.’

Struck to the heart with this information, I started up, and said, with great emotion, ‘I have indeed been long asleep, and dreadful is such an awaking!’ and walked about the room in an agony that astonished Mr. Senwill, who knew not the importance of what he had said.