Your answer to my first objection I must confess is satisfactory. I wish I could say so of the others; but I find that if I must comply, I shall be obliged to trust the remainder to yourself. Perhaps this is always the case, and the most cautious have been deceived. However, sir, I have communicated the contents of your letter to Mrs. B. as you know she has been to me as a parent. She has no objection, and I am at last resolved to comply. I must give myself up to you as a poor friendless orphan, and shall endeavour to act consistent with the rules laid down and enforced by our holy religion; and if you should so far deviate from the paths of virtue as to upbraid me with poverty, I have no friends to complain to, but that God who is the "father of the fatherless." But I have a better opinion of you than to entertain any such fears. I have left the time to your own appointment, and let me beg that you will continue in the practice of that virtuous education which you have received. Virtue is its own reward, and I cannot be unhappy with the man who prefers the duties of religion to gaiety and dissipation. I am yours sincerely.

SIR,

LETTER 125.

From a Lady to a Gentleman, complaining of Indifference.

However light you may make of promises, yet I am foolish enough to consider them as something more than trifles; and am likewise induced to believe that the man who voluntarily breaks a promise will not pay much regard to an oath; and if so, in what light must I consider your conduct? Did I not give you my promise to be

yours, and had you no other reason for soliciting than merely to gratify your vanity? A brutal gratification, indeed, to triumph over the weakness of a woman whose greatest fault was that she loved you. I say loved you, for it was in consequence of that passion I first consented to become yours. Has your conduct, sir, been consistent with my submission, or with your own solemn profession? Is it consistent with the character of a gentleman, first to obtain a woman's consent, and afterwards boast that he had discarded her, and found one more agreeable to his wishes? Do not equivocate, I have two convincing proofs of your insincerity; I saw you yesterday walking with Miss Benson, and am informed that you have proposed marriage to her. Whatever you may think, sir, I have a spirit of disdain, and even of resentment, equal to your ingratitude, and can treat the wretch with a proper indifference, who can make so slight a matter of the most solemn promises. Miss Benson may become your wife, but she will receive into her arms a perjured husband ;nor can ever the superstructure be lasting which is built on such a slight foundation. I leave you to the stings of your own conscience.

I am the injured.

MY DEAR MARIA,

LETTER 126.

The Gentleman's Reply.

For by that name I must still call you; has cruelty entered into your tender nature, or has some designing wretch imposed on your credulity? My dear, I am not what you have represented. I am neither false nor per

jured; I never proposed marriage to Miss Benson—I never intended it; and my sole reason for walking with her was, that I had been on a visit to her brother, whom you know is my attorney. And was it any fault in me to take a walk in the fields with him and his sister? Surely, prejudice itself cannot say so: but I am afraid you have been imposed upon by some designing person, who had private views and private ends to answer by such business. But whatever may have been the cause, I am entirely innocent; and to convince you of my sincerity, beg that the day of marriage may be next week. My affec tions never so much as wandered from the dear object of my love; in you are centred all my hopes of felicity; with you only can I be happy. Keep me not in misery one moment longer, by entertaining groundless jealousies against one who loves you in a manner superior to the whole of your sex; and I can set at defiance even malice itself. Let me beg your answer by my servant, which will make me either happy or miserable. I have sent a small parcel by the bearer, which I hope you will accept, and believe me, my dear,

Yours forever.

LETTER 127.

From a Young Officer, ordered to his regiment in Minorca, to a Young Lady whom he had courted.

MY DEAR,

I can scarce hold my pen. An order has just now arrived from the war office, by which I am obliged to set sail tomorrow for Minorca, without having the pleasure of seeing you. What unhappiness to us, and devastation

among the human race has the ambition of princes, and the perfidiousness of ministers occasioned! Husbands obliged to leave their beloved wives, and their dear little children; every relation is broken and we may well say with Addison

What havoc has ambition made!

But what is this to my present purpose? Like all others in a state of distraction, I am obliged to write nonsense, if any thing can be so called where the name of my dear charmer is found. Did you know, my dear, what a struggle I have between love and duty, you would consider me as an object of compassion. I am bound by the most solemn oaths to be yours; and at the same time duty obliges me to draw my sword in defence of the rights of my injured country; and, whatever dangers may wait for me, I would meet them with the greatest cheerfulness, were I sure of possessing one place in your heart. But why do I say one, I must have all or none; I cannot bear the most distant thought that you would place your affections on another. No, my dear, were that to happen, I would act the part of general Campbell at the fatal battle of Fontenoy, by rushing on the sword of the enemy to put an end to a weary existence. I should cheerfully lay down my life, which could be of small value, were I to be separated forever from you. But why do I doubt ? I know my charmer is as virtuous as she is beautiful, and that nothing but my own conduct can ever make her discard me.

But, is not absence death to those who love? However, I have the pleasing reflection yet left, that whilst I am in a distant part of the world, attending my duty, I shall be remembered by her, whose prayers for my preservation will be acceptable to that God who loves virtue, who is

I desire your adseparation will render it

of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. Nothing in this world can ever be so dear to me as you are. Believe all I say, and I am happy. If I do any thing that may appear wrong, inform me of it, and it sliall be my first care to confess my fault and amend. vice in every thing; but, alas! difficult, though not impossible. Not having had time to settle with our agent, I have left an order for that pur pose. Let me beg that you will visit my dear mother, she will esteem it as a respect shown to me. I have often told you what an excellent woman she is, and I am fully persuaded you will find her so; yes, more so than I ever mentioned. We are to stop at Gibraltar, where I hope to have a letter from you. If it comes too late, the governor will forward it to Minorca. Once more, my dear, farewell; continue to be mine, and all the vicissitudes and dangers of war will appear as trifles; and, when peace shall again bless the nations, I will fly on the wings of love to the arms of my dearest angel, and spend with her the remainder of my days.

I am your sincere lover.

If your hand could scarcely hold the pen, I am afraid this will appear unintelligible, being wet with tears from beginning to end. When your letter arrived, we were drinking tea, and my father reading the newspaper, wherein it was said, that all the officers in the army were ordered to join their regiments. I was a good deal alarm