" The behaviour of the man, whom I sought to move, appeared to me too inconsistent to be the result of indifference. To be roused and stimulated by obstacles—obstacles admitting hope, because obscurely seen—is no mark of weakness. Could I have subdued, what I, then, conceived to be the prejudices of a worthy man, I could have increased both his happiness and my own. I deeply reasoned, and philosophized, upon the subject. Perseverance, with little ability, has effected wonders;—with perseverance, I felt, that, I had the power of uniting ability—confiding in that power, I was the dupe of my own reason. No other man, perhaps, could have acted the part which this man has acted:—how, then, was I to take such a part into my calculations?

'Do not misconceive me—it is no miracle that I did not inspire affection. On this subject, the mortification I have suffered has humbled me, it may be, even, unduly in my own eyes—but to the emotions of my pride, I would disdain to give words. Whatever may have been my feelings, I am too proud to express the rage of slighted love!—Yet, I am sensible to all the powers of those charming lines of Pope—

"Unequal talk, a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost, as mine!
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate;
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain, do all things but forget!"
'But to return. I pursued, comparatively, (as I thought) a certain good; and when, at times, discouraged, I have repeated to myself—What! after all these pains, shall I relinquish my efforts, when, perhaps, on the very verge of success?—To say nothing of the difficulty of forcing an active mind out of its trains—if I desisted, what was to be the result? The sensations I now feel—apathy, stagnation, abhorred vacuity!

'You cannot resist the force of my reasoning—you, who are acquainted with, who know how to paint, in colours true to nature, the human heart—you, who admire, as a proof of power, the destructive courage of an Alexander, even the fanatic fury of a Ravaillac—you, who honour the pernicious ambition of an Augustus Cæsar, as bespeaking the potent, energetic, mind!—why should you affect to be intolerant to a passion, though differing in nature, generated on the same principles, and by a parallel
