 due for it, to another post;—accept them, my dear Evelyn, and be assured that I consider

your generous impatience of blame, upon an article too lightly treated by the generality of men, as the strongest proof of your friendship.—The highest compliment we can pay to those we regard, is the endeavouring to appear worthy of their esteem; for tho' love may, friendship never did, or will subsist, without a mutual exertion of good qualities, as well as of kind offices,—and he who can acquiesce in another's thinking meanly of him, betrays an equal want of regard to him, and of respect to himself,—so much in honour of your nice feelings; and I heartily wish that all men, and women too, were possessed of the same—particularly the latter, who like "Caesar's wife, ought not to be even suspected."—
I am extremely pleased at the little novel → , which my raillery (for indeed I

meant no more) extorted from you.—Pray, at your leisure, let me have the remainder of Nancy Weston's story; I feel myself much interested for her, which is more than I ever was for Miss Morton; she always appearing to me a sort of made-up Miss, than which I know not a less amiable character.
O, Charles, if women wou'd but trust to nature for their power to charm, and scorn the mean, the treacherous auxiliary of art, how unbounded wou'd be their dominion over us!—But I have not time now to expatiate on a topic, that has ever been my favourite one.—For my mind is nice, tho' my moral is not severe.
I am glad to hear that Lady Juliana is grown cold and reserved to you—It is at least a tacit confession that she is apprized

of your passion.—No woman ventures to be disagreeably distant to a man, to whom she has once been civil, till she is quite certain that her caprice will render him unhappy.—Ladies are too tenacious of their sway, to attempt an exertion of it, where it is not likely to be felt, but your true lover is the properest object in the world for tyranny, and seems really designed for no other purpose, but to be trampled on.
Courage, then, Charles.—The ice at least is broken, and in such a changeable latitude, who knows how soon the wind may veer about to the south, and breathe its soft Etesian gales upon you. You will, I doubt not, perceive that I am not
