From the Time I saw your Letter, I had little Reason to entertain any Hopes of poor Mr Whithed's Life, yet have not been at all less struck with the News of his Death. His youth, his fortune, & his Expectations, must make it a Subject of Compassion, even to Strangers: his Temper, his many good Qualities, & that Kindness I have constantly received from him, will make his Loss particularly sensible to me, who have (God knows) so few Friends to throw away, but I own, what most nearly interests me in it, is the Concern of Mr Chute, whose Surprize must have been equal to his Sorrow, & who perhaps had not Time or Resolution to see a Face he had been so long accustom'd to, till it was hid from him for ever. I can not think of troubling him with so useless a Thing as a Letter at such a Time, but must beg of you, if you either see, or have occasion to write to him, just to say, how much I feel for him & how eagerly I wish him that Happiness, & Ease of Mind, wch Time only can give him: for his own Reflexion & Good Sense will, I am afraid, but add to his Sensibility. You will much oblige me, when you can give me any Account of him, or of any Thing that concerns him, for you see I have no body else to apply to; & tho' the Loss you have had in your own Family (wch I am heartily sorry for) makes this an unreasonable Request, yet (I trust) you will find a quarter of an hour to satisfy my Inquietude.