by imposing on you a companion that doats and languishes for another. I will not go so far as to say, my passion for the gentleman whose wife I am by promise, would lead me to any thing criminal against your honour. But I know it is dreadful to a man of your sense to expect nothing but forced civilities in return for tender endearments, and cold esteem for undeserved love. If you will on this occasion let reason take place of passion, I doubt not but fate has in store for you some worthier object of your affection, in recompense for your goodness to the only woman that could be insensible to your merit.

I am, Sir,

Your most humble servant.

LETTER XLIII.

A Ward to her Guardian, against compulsive Marriage.

Sir,

I HOPE you will do me the justice to acknowledge, that hitherto I have in no material instance transgressed the obedience which I owe that friend, whom my father, in his will appointed as my guardian-that guardian, which now supplies the place of a father; but on the contrary, that I have been attentive to his advice, and submissive to his will; still I hope to preserve the character of an obedient ward. You have expressed a great desire, that I should give my hand to Mr. Sturdy: herein I must disobey; were it a father's self that demanded compliance, duty, if not directed by inclination, must give way to nature. I have therefore taken this liberty, with all deference, to put in a plea for your candid indulgence, in a matter that concerns the happiness of my life, and, though a female, to reason with you a little upon it. I confess Mr. Sturdy is a man of property and respect; these, I grant, are strong recommendations, but not sufficient qualities to constitute happiness in a matrimonial life. Consider the great disparity of years,-I am young, he is old the gaiety of youth can never agree with the gravity of age: if they cannot agree, such a disproportionate match must be productive of reciprocal aversion! Age can never delight youth, and sure where there is no attraction on the part of one object, there can be no affection on the part of the other; and if one part be deficient in affection, happiness can never be mutual. Mr. Sturdy may find more

:

pleasure in an alliance with a widow, or a lady of advanced years and experience, while, perhaps, I may meet with a gentleman better suited to my inclinations. Having thus far expatiated as well as my feeble abilities will permit, upon the inevitable consequences of uniting young and old, I hope my dear guardian will no longer favour the addresses of his friend, but persuade him to look out for a more suitable and worthy lady than his young foolish ward.

I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.

LETTER XLIV.

From a Young Lady to a Friend whose Lover was false. Dear Sophia,

IT is always the duty of friendship, to administer consolation to the unhappy: I therefore seize the earliest opportunity of endeavouring to abate your distress, by pointing out greater distresses, which you have fortunately avoided. Your lover has been false and perfidious; and your disappointment is consequently mortifying; your good has been returned with evil; your kind offers repaid with ingratitude; but think, my dear, if he had succeeded in his base design, (for his views could never be honourable) how much greater would have been your affliction? Let this consideration moderate your present grief: and likewise think that the wisest of our sex have frequently met with the same ill usage, perhaps worse. In short, if you reflect seriously you will discover that the very cause of your unhappiness, now, will in the end be great occasion for joy; for you have certainly avoided many ills, by not entering the marriage state with a worthless man. It is not easy I know for a feeling mind, to banish the remembrance of an object that was once dear; but with the aid of reason and reflection, time can complete the arduous task. Oh then, my dear Sophia, collect all your fortitude, endeavour to be yourself again; free and. happy; and you will be so: With wishes for this noble resolution, and the desired effect, I remain, Yours sincerely, &c.

LETTER XLV.

From a Gentleman to a Lady, whom he accuses of Incon

YOU must not be surprised at a letter in the place of a visit, from one who cannot but have reason to believe it may easily be as welcome as his company.

You should not suppose, if lovers have lost their sight, that their senses are all banished: and if I refuse to believe my eyes, when they shew me your inconstancy, you must not wonder that I cannot stop my ears against the accounts of it. Pray let us understand one another properly;' for I am afraid we are deceiving ourselves all this while. Am I a person whom you esteem, whose fortune you do not despise, and whose pretensions you encourage? or am I a troublesome coxcomb, who fancy myself particularly reseived by a woman who only laughs at me? If I am the latter, you treat me as I deserve; and I ought to join with you in saying I deserve it; but if it be otherwise, and you receive me, as I think you do, as a person you intend to marry, for it is best to be plain on those occasions, what is the meaning of that universal coquetry in public, where every fool flatters you, and you are pleased with the meanest of them? and what can be the meaning that I am told, you last night in particular was an hour with Mr. Marlow, and are so wherever you meet him, if I am not in company? Both of us, Madam, you cannot think of; and I should be sorry to imagine, that when I had given you my heart so entirely, I shared yours with any body.

I have said a great deal too much to you, and yet I am tempted to say more: but I shall be silent. I beg you will answer this, and I think I have a right to expect that you do it generously and fairly. Do not mistake what is the effect of the distraction of my heart, for want of respect to you. While I write this, I dote upon you, but I cannot bear to be deceived where all my happiness is centered. Your most unhappy, &c.

Sir,

LETTER XLVI.

The Answer.

IF I did not make all the allowances you desire in the end of your letter, I should not answer you at all. But al

though I am really unhappy to find you are so, and the more so to find myself the occasion, I can hardly impute the unkindness and incivility of your letter to the single cause you would have me. However, as I would not be suspected of any thing that should justify such treatment from you, I think it necessary to inform you, that what you have heard has no more foundation than what you have seen: however, I wonder that other eyes should not be as easily alarmed as yours: for, instead of being blind, believe me, Sir, you see more than there is. Perhaps, however, their sight may be as much sharpened by unprovoked malice, as yours by undeserved suspicion.

Whatever may be the end of this dispute, for I do not think so lightly of lovers' quarrels as many do, I think it proper to inform you, that I never have thought favourably of any one but yourself; and I shall add, that if the fault of your temper, which I once little suspected, should make me fear you too much to marry, you will not see me in that state with any other, nor courted by any man in the world.

I did not know that the gaiety of my temper gave you uneasiness, and you ought to have told me of it with less severity. If I am particular in it, I am afraid it is a fault of my natural disposition; but I would have taken some pains to get the better of that, if I had known it was disagreeable to you. I ought to resent this treatment more than I do, but do not insult my weakness on that head; for a fault of that kind would want the excuse this has for my pardon, and might not be so easily overlooked, though I should wish to do it. I should say, I will not see you to-day, but you have an advocate that pleads for you much better than you do for yourself. I desire you will first look carefully over this letler, for my whole heart is in it, and then come to me. Your's, &c.

LETTER XLVII.

From a Lover who had cause of displeasure, and determines never to see the Lady again.

Madam,

THERE was a time, when if any one should have told me that I should ever have written to you such a letter as I am now writing, I would as soon have believed that the earth would have burst asunder, or that I should see stars falling

to the ground, or trees or mountains rising to the heavens. But there is nothing too strange to happen. One thing would have appeared yet more impossible than my writing it, which is, that you should have given me the cause to have written it, and yet that has happened.

The purpose of this is to tell you, Madam, that I shall never wait on you again. You will truly know what I make myself suffer when I impose this command upon my own. heart: but I would not tell you of it, if it were not too much determined for me to have a possibility of changing my resolution.

It gives me some pleasure, that you will feel no uneasiness for this, though I should also have been very averse some time ago even to have imagined that; but you know where to employ that attention, of which I am not worthy the whole, and with a part I shall not be contented. I was a witness, Madam, yesterday, of your behaviour to Mr. Henry. I had been often told of this, but I have refused to listen to it. I supposed your heart no more capable of deceit than my own: But I cannot disbelieve what I have been told on such authority, when my own eyes confirm it. Madam, I take my leave of you, and beg you will forget there ever was such a man as,

Your humble servant.

LETTER XLVIII.

From a rich Young Gentleman, to a beautiful Young Lady

Miss Sophia,

with no Fortune.

IT is a general reflection against the manners of the present age, that marriage is only considered as one of those methods by which avarice may be satisfied, and poverty averted; that neither the character nor accomplishments of the woman are much regarded, her merit being estimated by the thousands of her fortune. I acknowledge that the accusation is too true, and to that may be ascribed the many unhappy matches we daily meet with; for how is it possible that those should ever have the same affection for each other, who were forced to comply with terms to which they had the utmost aversion, as if they had been allowed to consult their own inclinations, and give their hands where they have engaged their hearts. For my own part, I have been always