 India's burning soil, to the mild climate of your native land.
Your serious complaint of the inadequateness of language, in your first letter, made me smile,—believe me you were more at a loss for ideas, than words, when you sat down to write; or at least the former wanted pr••ision; for nothing can be clearer to me than that you were then undetermined with regard to Sir James Desmond's character—the new lights thrown upon it since, in my mind do but puzzle the cause—I am not personally acquainted with him, but he is generally well spoken of, tho' said to be remarkably fond of play; and

I have heard it hinted that he has suffered by it considerably.
I can't tell why I should dislike your new acquaintance, Mr. Sewell, and yet I do—your mistaking him for a servant, is against him,—a meanness, either in manners or appearance, is no favourable prognostic—or—don't be angry, Charles, but possibly my antipathy may have arisen from your too sudden sympathy. Not from any spirit of contradiction, but that I know you are often too liable to impromptu attachments, both in love and friendship.—And yet, tho' you have smarted pretty severely for a first-sight connection before now; I wou'd not, if I cou'd, restrain the openness and benevolence of your nature.—Every man that is not himself a knave, is liable to be duped by one, till a thorough knowledge of the world has taught him caution, at the cost

of one of the highest pleasures in life—that of thinking well of human nature.
I don't know whether your sisters, Mrs. Selwyn, and my Lucy, for I still hope to call her mine, have not reason to be jealous, in the friendly way, of your partiality to Lady Desmond,—she cannot, in my mind, have more excellent or amiable qualities, than your eldest sister, nor is it possible that she can have more charms, either in mind or person, than your youngest. But I will not hint this unjust preference to either of them, particularly as I have reason, from your last letter, to believe that they, and all the rest of the world, are quite upon a par, in your present estimation; your whole quota of fond affections, being absolutely devoted to the transcendent beauties of your divine

Juliana—I hope that last line is sublime enough to satisfy your lovership.
Adieu! my dear Charles, I have said nothing of my own affairs, because they are still in an unpleasant
