d,
is too noble a girl to deny it, if charged. And then Miss Harlowe is
firmly of opinion, that she shall never want nor wear the think she
disposes of.

Having heard nothing from town that obliges me to go thither, I shall
gratify poor Belton with my company till to-morrow, or perhaps till
Wednesday. For the unhappy man is more and more loth to part with me.
I shall soon set out for Epsom, to endeavour to serve him there, and
re-instate him in his own house. Poor fellow! he is most horribly low
spirited; mopes about; and nothing diverts him. I pity him at my heart;
but can do him no good.--What consolation can I give him, either from his
past life, or from his future prospects?

Our friendships and intimacies, Lovelace, are only calculated for strong
life and health. When sickness comes, we look round us, and upon one
another, like frighted birds, at the sight of a kite ready to souse upon
them. Then, with all our bravery, what miserable wretches are we!

Thou tallest me that thou seest reformation is coming swiftly upon me. I
hope it is. I see so much difference in the behaviour of this admirable
woman in her illness, and that of poor Belton in his, that it is plain to
me the sinner is the real coward, and the saint the true hero; and,
sooner or later, we shall all find it to be so, if we are not cut off
suddenly.

The lady shut herself up at six o'clock yesterday afternoon; and intends
not to see company till seven or eight this; not even her nurse--imposing
upon herself a severe fast. And why? It is her BIRTH-DAY!--Every
birth-day till this, no doubt, happy!--What must be her reflections!--
What ought to be thine!

What sport dost thou make with my aspirations, and my prostrations, as
thou callest them; and with my dropping of the banknote behind her chair!
I had too much awe of her at the time, to make it with the grace that
would better have become my intention. But the action, if awkward, was
modest. Indeed, the fitter subject for ridicule with thee; who canst no
more taste the beauty and delicacy of modest obligingness than of modest
love. For the same may be said of inviolable respect, that the poet says
of unfeigned affection,

I speak! I know not what!--
Speak ever so: and if I answer you
I know not what, it shows the more of love.
Love is a child that talks in broken language;
Yet then it speaks most plain.

The like may be pleaded in behalf of that m