And this generally, with the thoughtless, is the beginning and progress of that formidable invader, miscalled love: a word very happily at hand, to help giddy creatures to talk with, and look without confusion of face on, a man telling them a thousand lies, and hoping, perhaps by illaudable means, to attain an end not in itself illaudable, when duty and discretion are, the one the guide, the other the gentle restraint.

But as to Emily I depend on her principles, as well as on your affectionate discretion (when you will be pleased, among ye, to permit my brother to be actually yours) for restraining her imagination. There never beat in a female bosom an honestcr heart. Poor thing! she is biit a girl! And who is the woman, or child, that looks on my brother without love and reverence?

For Emily’s sake, you see, you must not have too many of your honest uncXeacircuni-roundabouts. He makes us laugh. I love to have him angry with his dame Selby . Dear Harriet, when your heart’s quite at ease, give us the courtship of the odd soul to //;e light ()f his eyes; ///s oddness, and //er delicacy! A charming contrast! You did help us to a little of it once, you know. Theirs, on the woman’s side, could not be much of love at first: but who so happy as they? I am convinced, Harriet, that love on one side, and discretion on the other, is enough in conscience; and, in short, much better than love on both: for what room can there be for discretion, in the latter case? The man is guilty of a heterodoxy in love, you know who hpriK/cut, or but suspected of being so! Ah Harriet, Harriet, once more I say, we women are foolish creatures in our love-affairs, and know not what’s best for ourselves. In your stile ‘ Don’t you think so, Lucy?’ Yet J admire Lucy She got over an improperly-placed love; and now, her mad fit over [we have all little or much of it; hcpin, as I told you how] she is so cool, so quiet, so sedate Yet once I make no doubt, looking forward to her present happy quiescence, would have thought it a state of insipidit3\ Dearly do we love racketing; and another whisper, some of us to be racketed Hut not i/ou! you are an exception. Yes, to be sure! But I believe you’ll think me mad.

We like my brother’s little trick upon you in the billet he wrote, and which you signed, as if to Emily. You see how earnest he is, xny dear. I long for hiis next letters from Italy. I think that is a lucky plea enough i’or you, if you suppose parade necessary.