 mind is entirely removed; I can therefore, scarcely doubt but that health and peace will return together; for I am

but too clearly convinced, that the privation of the latter, occasioned the loss of the former.
THERE certainly never was a more amiable creature than lady Woodville—so unassuming in her manners, so fearful of giving pain, that she would if possible, conceal her complaints, even from her domestics who all adore her.
IS it not amazing, Seymour, that perfectly sensible as I am, of her uncommon merits, there should be found a being upon earth, who holds a higher place in my affection? How falsely do they flatter our understanding, who say that esteem is the basis of love! if that were true, I should be the happiest of men, should think no more of the ungrateful Isabella, should no longer feel the reproaches of a wayward heart, which would then be entirely devoted to the charming Emily.
BUT though I may never be able, entirely to eradicate this fatal disease from my mind, I have great pleasure in perceiving, that the constant exertion of my tenderness towards Emily, is attended with the sincerest delight to myself; as it fulfils a duty and flatters my humanity with the idea of conferring happiness upon an amiable and deserving object.
THE practice of any virtue is not so difficult as we are apt to imagine.—There requires nothing more than resolution to commence.—Habit will soon make it easy, if not pleasant, to us.—Yet still must I envy those, who have no need to struggle; and when I behold the ingenuous fondness of lord Mount Willis and Sir John Straffon, to their wives, I curse my fate, and despise my own weakness, for having reduced me to the contemptible necessity of seigning what they are happy enough to feel.

WE are to return the visits of our present guests in our way to Bristol.—Lord Mount Willis has a very fine seat in Somersetshire.—He is a very agreeable accomplished man. His wife before her marriage, loved Sir James Miller—passionately loved him—and yet she has withdrawn her ill-placed fondness and doats upon her lord. Shall I be weaker, weaker than a puny girl? and shall the voice of reason always plead in vain?—I dare not reply to these mortifying queries.
I MOST sincerely pity the unhappy general de Beaumont; his misfortunes have been multiplied on him, at a time when he is least able to encounter them. There is a spring in youth, which makes us capable of resisting almost any pressure; but when a body, which has been nursed in
