How does hi.s bounty insult me, on my narrow fortune! Narrow, unless he submit to accept of the offered contributions of my friends

Contri.hid’ions! Proud Harriet, how art tbou, even in thy exaltations, humbled! Trifles, he called them: the very ornamenting one’s self with sach toya, may, in his eye, be thought trifling, though he is not above complying with the fashion, in things indifterent: but, the cost and beauty of these jewels considered, they are not trifles. The jewel of jewels, however, is his heart! How would the noble Cle-mentina Hah,;;e/ Heart, rather. Why, just now, this check of Clementina? I hioxv why Not from want of admiration of her; but when I am allowing juy heart to open, then does Something hercy in my inmost bosom [Is it conscience?] strikes me, as if it said. Ah, Harriet! Triumph not; rejoice not! Check the overflowings of thy grateful heart! Art thou not an invader of another’s right?

Letter XXXI.

Miss Byron. In Continuation.

Thursday morning, October 26,

I WILL hurry off a few lines. I am always ready before these fiddling girls: Lucy and Nancy, I mean. Never tedious, but in dressing! They will over-do the morning appearance. I could beat them. So well acquainted with propriety as they are; and knowing the beauty of elegant negligence. Were I not afraid of Lucy’s repartee; and that she would say I was laying out for a compliment; I would tell them, they had a mind to try to eclipse Miss Clarkson, and the Yorkshire ladies. Your brother supped, as well asdiuL’d,;it thatGrfville’s. Fie upon him! I did not think he had so little command of himself! Vain Harriet! Perhaps he chose to be rather there than licrc, for /^r(/^y-sake. I shall be saucy, by-and-by. He is below, strongly engaged in talk with my aunt About wc’;! suppose; Ay, to be sure! methinksyou ladyship says. He can talk of nobody else! Well, and what if” one would wish he could not? [What are these girls about!’] No less than one-and-twenty gentlemen at Greville’s, besides the prince of them ail. They all were ready to worship him. Fenwick looked in just now, and tells me so. He says, that your brother was the liveliest man in the company. He led the mirth, he says, and visibly exerted him-self the more, finding the turn of the conversation likely to be what might be expected from such a company of all men. Wretches! Can twenty of them, when met, be tolerable creatures, not a wo-man among them, to soften their manners, and give politeness to their conversation? Fenwick says, they engaged him at one time into talk of different religions, customs, usages. He was master of every subject. Haifa score mouths were open at once whenever he spoke, as if distended with gags, was his word; and every one’s eyes broader than ever they were observed to be before. Fenwick has hu-mour; a little; not much; only by accident. So unlike himselfat times, that he may pass for a different man. His aping Greville, helps his oddness. How I ramble! You’ll think I am aping my dear Lady G. [0 tJiesc girls!~\ I think time lost when I am not writing to you. You cannot imagine what a thief I am to my company. J steal away myself, and get down, before I am missed, half a score times in a couple of hours. Sir Charles sung to the wretches: they all sung, they encored him without mercv. He talks of setting out for town on Saturday, earh’. Lord bless nic! What shall I do, when he is gone? Do you think /say this? If I f/o, I am kept in countenance: every — body says^ so, as well as I But ah! Lady G. he has invited all the gentlemen, the whole twenty-one, and my cousin James, and my uncle, to dine with him at his inn, to-morrw! Inn! Nasty inn! Why clid we let him go thither? lam afraid he is a reveller. Can he be so very good a man? O yes, yes, yes! wicked Harriet! What is in thy heart, to doubt it? A fine reflection upon the age; as if there could not be one good man in it! and as if a good man could not be a man of vivacity and spirit! from whom can spirits, can cheerfulness, can debonnairness, be expected, if not from a good man? I will shew these girls, by the quantity I have written, how they have made me wait. Prating, I suppose, to my Sally, about Sir Charles: they can talk of nobody else.