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are his property --Will the fidelity of so many years weigh nothing in the scale of gratitude

Years-why, can obligations (suppose they had not been repaid an hundred fold) do away the unnatural disparity of years ? Can they bid five-and-fifty stand still (the least that you could ask), and wait for fiveand twenty ? Many women have the same obligations (if indeed there be many of the same accomplishinents) to their fathers. They have the additional obligation to them (if, indeed, it be an obligation) of existence. The disparity of years is fomnetimes even less. But, must they therefore take their fathers to their bosoms? Muft the jesfamine fing its tender arms around the dying elm?

To my little fortunes you are no stranger: Will you share them with me? And you shall honestly tell his lordship that gratitude taught you to pay every duty to him, till love taught you there were other duties which you owed to H.


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Gracious Heaven that you would pay them !

But did I not say I would not take advantage? I will not. I will even reinind you of your children ; to whom I, alas, could only thew at present the wife Elion of a father.

M. weiglı us in the scales. - lf gratitude out-balance love-fo.

If you command it, I swear by love, I'll join my regiment to-morrow.

If love prevail, and infift upon his dues ; you shall declare the victory and the prize. I will take no advantage.

Think over this. Neither will I take you by surprize. Sleep upon it, before you return your answer. Trim shall make the old excuse to-morrow. And, thank Heaven! to-night you sleep alone.

Why did you sing that sweet song yesterday, though I so pressed you? These words and your voice, were too much.

No words can say how much I am your's.

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Here has been a fad piece of work ever since I received your's yesterday. But, don't be alarmed-We are not discovered to the prophane. Our tender tale is only known to-(whom does your fear suggest ?) to love and gratitude, my H. And they ought both for twenty reasons, to be your friends, I am sure.

They have been trying your cause, ever since the departure of honest Trim yesterday. Love, though in my opinion not fo blind, is as good a justice, as Sir John Fielding. I argued the matter stoutly-my head on his lordship's side of the question, my heart on your's. At last they seemed to say, as if the oath of allegiance, which I had taken to gratitude, at a time when, Heaven knows, I had never heard of love,



[7] should be void, and I should be at full liberty to devote myself, body and soul, to

But call on me to-morrow before dinner, and I'll tell you their final Judgment. This I will tell you now-love sent you the tenderest wishes, and gratitude said I could never pay you all I owe for


noble letter of yesterday.

Yet-oh, my H. think not meanly of me ever for this

Do not you turn advocate against me I will not pain you

'tis impossible you ever should. Come then to-mo rrow and surely Omiah will not murder love! Yet I thought the other day he caught our eyes conversing, Eyes speak a language all can understand. .

-But, is a child of nature to nip in the bud that favourite pasfion which his mother Nature planted, and still tends ?-What will Oberea and her coterie fay to this, Omiah, when you return from making the tour of the globe? They'll black-ball you, depend on it.

What would Rousseau say to it, my H.?
You shall tell me to-morrow. I will


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not write another word; left conscience, who is just now looking over my left shoulder, should snatch my pen, and scratch out to-morrow,


To Miss

Huntingdon, Dec. 7, 1775.

My dearest Soul,

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I hope to Heaven Trim will be able to get this to you to-night !-Not I only, but my whole future life, shall thank you for the dear iheet of paper I have just received. Blessings, bleflings-But I could write and exclaim, and offer up vows and prayers, till the happy hour arrives.

Yet, hear me, M. If I have thus far deserved your love, I will deserve it still. As a proof I have not hitherto pressed you for any thing conscience disapproves, you shall not do to-morrow what conscience disapproves. You shall not make me happy (oli, how supremely blest!) under the roof


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