she aimed at doing extraordinary
things, and when she had married Mr. Smith (because some people were so
bold as to think she did it because she loved him) she undertook to
convince the world that what she had done was in mere pity to his
sufferings, and that she could not go a step lower to meet anybody than
that led her, though when she thought there were no eyes on her, she was
more gracious to him. But perhaps this might not be true, or it may be
she is now grown weary of that constraint she put upon herself. I should
have been sadder than you if I had been their neighbour to have seen
them so kind; as I must have been if I had married the Emperor. He used
to brag to me always of a great acquaintance he had there, what an
esteem my lady had for him, and had the vanity (not to call it
impudence) to talk sometimes as if he would have had me believe he might
have had her, and would not; I'll swear I blushed for him when I saw he
did not. He told me too, that though he had carried his addresses to me
with all the privacy that was possible, because he saw I liked it best,
and that 'twas partly his own humour too, yet she had discovered it, and
could tell that there had been such a thing, and that it was broke off
again, she knew not why; which certainly was a lie, as well as the
other, for I do not think she ever heard there was such a one in the
world as

Your faithful friend.

_Letter 28._--Dorothy's allusion to the "Seven Sleepers" refers to a
story which occurs in the _Golden Legend_ and other places, of seven
noble youths of Ephesus, who fled from persecution to a cave in Mount
Celion. After two hundred and thirty years they awoke, but only to die
soon afterwards. The fable is said to have arisen from a
misinterpretation of the text, "They fell asleep in the Lord."

SIR,--I did not lay it as a fault to your charge that you were not good
at disguise; if it be one, I am too guilty on't myself to accuse
another. And though I have been told it shows an unpractisedness in the
world, and betrays to all that understand it better, yet since it is a
quality I was not born with, nor ever like to get, I have always thought
good to maintain that 'twas better not to need it than to have it.

I give you many thanks for your care of my Irish dog, but I am extremely
out of countenance your father should be troubled with it. Sure, he will
think I have a most extravagant fancy; but do me the right as to let him
know I am not