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: There's a pretty conclusion for you. Am I not a good girl ? I shall become a most elegant correspondent in time, I see. This paragraph is the postscript, you know and should therefore have been introduced by a well flourished P. S. the Sir Clement Cottrel upon these occasions.


E R X.

To Miss


28 Dec. 75.

Your condescension in removing my most groundless cause of jealousy yesterday, was more than I deserved. How I exposed myself by my violence with you! But, I tell you my paflions are all gunpowder. Though, thank God, no Othello, yet

am I

One not easily jealous; but, being

wrought, " Perplex'd in th’ extreme;"

And that God knows how I love you, worship you, idolize you.


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How could I think you particular to such a thing as B? You said you forgave me today, and I hope you did. Let me have it again from your own dear lips to-morrow, instead of the next day. Every thing shall be ready—and the guitar, which I wrote for, is come down, and I'll bring the song and you shall sing it, and play it, and I'll beg you to forgive me, and you shall forgive me, and, -five hundred ands befides.

Why, I would be jealous of this sheet of paper, if you kissed it with too much rapture.

What a fool !--No, my M., railier say - what a lover!

Many thanks for your picture. It is like. Accept this proof that I have examined it.

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'Tis true, creative man, thine art can teach
The living picture every thing but speech!-
True, thou hast drawn her, as she is, all fair,
Divinely fair! her lips, her eyes, her hair!




Full well I know the finile upon that face-
Full well I know those features' every

But what is this my M.'s mortal part-
There is a subject beggars all thine art :
Paint but her mind, by Heav'n! and thou

shalt be,
Shalt be my more than pagan deity. -
Nature may possibly have caft, of old,
Some other beauty in as fair a mould
But all in vain you'll search the world to

Another beauty with so fair a mind.



To the Same.

Huntingdon, 1 Jan. 1776. Lest I should not see you this morning, I will scribble this before I mount honest Crop; that I may leave it for you.

This is a new year. May every day of it be happy to my M. May-but don't

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you know there's not a wish of bliss I do not wish you?

A new year-I like not this world. There


be new lovers. I lie-there may not. M. will never change her H. I am sure she'll never change him for a truer lover.

A new year~76. Where shall we be in 77? Where in 78 ? Where in 79? Where in 80 ?

In misery or bliss, in life or death, in heaven or hell-wherever you are there may H. be also!

The soldier whom you desired me to beg off, returns thanks to his unknown benefactress.--Discipline must be kept up in our way; but I am sure you will do me the justice to believe I am no otherwise a friend to it.

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To the Same.

Huntingdon, Feb. 8, 1776.

Since the thaw sent me from H. the day before yesterday, I have written four times to you, and believe verily I shall write four-and-forty times to you in the next four days. The bliss I have enjoyed with you these three weeks has increased, not diminished, my affection. Three weeks and more in the same house with my M.!-'Twas more than I deserved. And yet, to be obliged to resign you every night to another !-By these eyes, by your still dearer eyes, I don't think I slept three hours during the whole three weeks. Yet, yet, 'twas bliss. How lucky, that I was pressed to stay at H. the night the snow set in! Would it had fnowed till doomsday! But, then, you must have been his every night till doomsday. Now, my happy time may come.


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