_Rose-Bank_

I Direct this letter to you, my dear son, at Paris; where it will
either find you, or lie at the banker's till your arrival. A packet
accompanies it, which contains the accounts of your late uncle with
Monsieur de Chateauneuf; by which it appears there is a considerable
balance in his favour, which as you know by will devolves to me.

I hope, when you have settled this business, you will be disposed to
return to England; and that I shall once again have the happiness to
see you before I die. Do not imagine I speak of death to attract any
false pity. But my state of health obliges me to consider this serious
event as at no great distance; though I do not think myself in
immediate danger.

Sir Arthur St. Ives and his lovely daughter will soon be in Paris. They
requested letters from me; and, among others, I thought I could not
recommend them to any one with more propriety than to my son. There is
an intimacy between our families at present; which was first occasioned
by an affection which your sister Louisa and Anna St. Ives conceived
for each other, and which has continually increased, very much indeed
to my satisfaction. For, before I saw this young lady, I never met with
one whom I thought deserving of the friendship of your sister, Louisa;
whose strength of mind, if I do not mistake, is very extraordinary for
her years. Yet even I, her mother, and liable enough to be partial,
have sometimes thought she must cede the palm to her friend, the
charming Anna.

My reason for writing thus is that you may be guilty of no mistakes of