nstance--you cannot fail to know to what
I allude--is too recent to permit my being so hasty in my conclusions
as the warmth of my temper might have otherwise prompted. I am also
most anxious that you should be prepared to show her kindness, which I
know the goodness of your own heart will prompt, more especially
when I tell you that she is an orphan, without relations, and almost
without friends. Her guardian is, I should say _was_, for she is of
age, Lord Downshire, to whom I must write for his consent, a piece
of respect to which he is entitled for his care of her--and there the
matter rests at present. I think I need not tell you that if I assume
the new character which I threaten, I shall be happy to find that
in that capacity, I may make myself more useful to my brothers, and
especially to Anne, than I could in any other. On the other hand, I
shall certainly expect that my friends will endeavour to show every
attention in their power to a woman who forsakes for me, prospects
much more splendid than what I can offer, and who comes into Scotland
without a single friend but myself. I find I could write a great deal
more upon this subject, but as it is late, and as I must write to my
father, I shall restrain myself. I think (but you are the best judge)
that in the circumstances in which I stand, you should write to her,
Miss Carpenter, under cover to me at Carlisle.

Write to me very fully upon this important subject--send me your
opinion, your advice, and above all, your blessing; you will see the
necessity of not delaying a minute in doing so, and in keeping this
business _strictly private_, till you hear farther from me, since you
are not ignorant that even at this advanced period, an objection on
the part of Lord Downshire, or many other accidents, may intervene; in
which case, I should little wish my disappointment to be public.

TO MISS SEWARD

_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_

Edinburgh, 21 _March_, 1805.

MY DEAR MISS SEWARD,

I am truly happy that you found any amusement in the _Lay of the Last
Minstrel_. It has great faults, of which no one can be more sensible
than I am myself. Above all, it is deficient in that sort of
continuity which a story ought to have, and which, were it to write
again, I would endeavour to give it. But I began and wandered forward,
like one in a pleasant country, getting to the top of one hill to see
a prospect, and to the bottom of another to enjoy a shade, and what
won