nst the
dangers of sensibility, I am not an advocate for apathy. At your age
I should have said THAT is a vice more hateful than all the errors of
sensibility, and I say so still. I call it a VICE, because it leads to
positive evil; in this, however, it does no more than an ill-governed
sensibility, which, by such a rule, might also be called a vice; but
the evil of the former is of more general consequence. I have exhausted
myself,' said St. Aubert, feebly, 'and have wearied you, my Emily; but,
on a subject so important to your future comfort, I am anxious to be
perfectly understood.'

Emily assured him, that his advice was most precious to her, and that
she would never forget it, or cease from endeavouring to profit by it.
St. Aubert smiled affectionately and sorrowfully upon her. 'I repeat
it,' said he, 'I would not teach you to become insensible, if I could;
I would only warn you of the evils of susceptibility, and point out
how you may avoid them. Beware, my love, I conjure you, of that
self-delusion, which has been fatal to the peace of so many persons;
beware of priding yourself on the gracefulness of sensibility; if you
yield to this vanity, your happiness is lost for ever. Always remember
how much more valuable is the strength of fortitude, than the grace of
sensibility. Do not, however, confound fortitude with apathy; apathy
cannot know the virtue. Remember, too, that one act of beneficence,
one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the
world. Sentiment is a disgrace, instead of an ornament, unless it lead
us to good actions. The miser, who thinks himself respectable, merely
because he possesses wealth, and thus mistakes the means of doing good,
for the actual accomplishment of it, is not more blameable than the man
of sentiment, without active virtue. You may have observed persons, who
delight so much in this sort of sensibility to sentiment, which excludes
that to the calls of any practical virtue, that they turn from
the distressed, and, because their sufferings are painful to be
contemplated, do not endeavour to relieve them. How despicable is that
humanity, which can be contented to pity, where it might assuage!'

St. Aubert, some time after, spoke of Madame Cheron, his sister. 'Let
me inform you of a circumstance, that nearly affects your welfare,' he
added. 'We have, you know, had little intercourse for some years, but,
as she is now your only female relation, I have thought it