 charms; for by appearing not to have been any original defect in her complexion, but the casual effect of misfortune or ill-health, captivate us thro' sympathy, which is always stronger than the senses. Her eyes dark blue, adorned with long black eye-lashes; her brows of the same colour; her nose the perfect Grecian; her lips and teeth—but I shall attempt no more—A statue may be described, but not a living Venus—she seems to be about four and twenty, and has been near two years a widow.

Emma tells me that my elder brother had been proposed for her, before her marriage with Mr. Harley; but her father, the Earl of K—, had already entered into a treaty with her late husband, and poor Harry was of course,

refused—I grieve now for what he must have suffered, at that time; but console myself with thinking that he would have had a much severer struggle on his leaving life, had he been possessed of such an object. At least I strive to persuade myself that it was happy for him, he was not married to Lady Juliana, as I may hope, at the same time, that it was very fortunate for me.
This charming woman has promised to stay a fortnight with my sister, and then we are all to go to London, together.—I will use all my interest with Emma, to delay her journey, and detain her lovely guest for a longer term. If I do not obtain some little share in her heart, whilst she remains under the same roof with me, where I have a thousand opportunities of marking my attentions,

without appearing to obtrude them, I must despair of making any impression, when she will be surrounded by crouds of admirers, and hurried into all the dissipation of the gay world.
The country, as the poets tell us, is the scene for love; the pleasing objects that surround us, the pureness of the air, but, above all, its stillness, harmonize the soul, and render it susceptible of every soft and tender feeling.—Noise is an enemy to all the gentle passions, I agree with Sterne, that a lover who was unfortunate enough, to throw down the fire shovel and tongs, when he was going to prostrate himself at his mistress's feet, cou'd have very little hopes of success, from his flurried fair one.

Silence is rendered vocal, at this moment, by the soft sounds of Lady Juliana's, and my sister's voices, under my window—They are going to walk, perhaps,—I
