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to say—“Poor creature!” added he, observing that she gave him a droll look of pity; “but I would rather far be as I am, and see the world in all its natural and acquired deformity, than live the constant and wretched dupe of imagination and sen
sibility as they call it.” “That is the question,” said signora Mori, “whether the world is so much in fault, or our own expectations from it er
“Well,” answered Varoni, “were fairy endowments still in fashion, and I had the misfortune to have a son, if any of these airy beings were to promise that he should be gifted with qualities according to my desire, I would say—‘If this world is all I am to think of, give him just sufficient mind to take care of his own interest, and to enjoy the common objects of taste; but give him neither feeling, liberality, nor affection; but if the pains of this world are to prepare him for the happiness of the next, give him all three, he will then be Sure sure to be miserable enough: his feelings for others will destroy his peace, his generosity will ruin his fortune, and his affection will annihilate his happiness.” “It is indeed too often the case, that our own heart or our own imagination is the betrayer of our rest, and the ruin of all our enjoyment,” answered the young lady, and she concluded, with a sigh that made Charles think she felt from experience the truth of what had been said. There was something also in the manner of saying it, that struck sir Philip Mason, and made a cold thrill of doubt come over the more ardent feelings of his heart; and rising with his friend, he took leave, and returned to the city. On the way sir Philip was less conversible than usual, and seemed to entertain fears for his success with Biancha, which he had not before felt. - Rochefoucault says, that we always find something pleasing to us in the sorrows of our friends. He was wrong. It is that We
we learn to appreciate our own happiness, by contrasting it with the misfortunes of others. Charles Melville, on his return to a home brightened with the smiles of undoubted affection, perhaps esteemed his OW In happiness more highly than ever, from all he had seen in the morning; but he felt no pleasure in the very uncertain state of his friend's prospects. Mary's feeling heart took a great interest in the fate of the frank, straight-forward sir Philip; nor did Charles grudge him her sympathy, for he could not but feel that Mary's general benevolence did not in the least detract from her attachment to himself; Charles was ardent and susceptible enough to have been jealous, had be loved another than Mary, but of her it was impossible to entertain a doubt; her mind was as open as the clear blue sky, without a shadow or a cloud; and now that Charles's attachment was as open and avowed as it was warm and sincere,
she had no coquettish reserve or affectation • * of of restraint towards him, but every day gave him new proofs of her affection, and fresh cause for admiration.
Charles was now beginning to be tired of wandering—he had pictured to himself such a happy home, to bless the remainder of his days, that he could not feel satisfied till the dream of his imagination was realized. He looked forward to England with a thousand hopes, and heartily wished that their travels were over. He was scarcely contented to extend their tour to the Ionian islands; but it was Mary's wish, and every thing, of course, yielded to that: but as a concession on the other part, it was agreed that they should only remain one month longer at Naples instead of two, which had been at first proposed, and Charles, obliged to bridle his impatience, did it with a good grace, and enjoyed the present, as well as looked forward to the future.
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Adine. Oui, c'est moi dont le zele,
Qu'il me devait un plus tendre retour.
La Prude. The Rival.
THERE is more time wasted in determining what to do next, than in any other of the many methods human nature has recourse to, of spending the most valuable, but the most transitive gift that we have received from Heaven. In setting out in the world, we (almost all of us) feel like the heir of a rich miser, who fancies the wealth fallen to him equally delightful and inexhaustible; we think that life will give us many, many more pleasures than