an affection constitutes its chastity) but over my prudence. I repeat, I am willing to sacrifice every inferior consideration—retain your legacy, so capriciously bequeathed—retain your present situation, and I will retain mine. This proposition, though not a violation of modesty, certainly involves in it very serious hazards—It is, wholly, the triumph of affection! You cannot suppose, that a transient engagement would satisfy a mind like mine; I should require a reciprocal faith plighted and returned—an after separation, otherwise than by mutual consent, would be my destruction—I should not survive your desertion. My existence, then, would be in your hands. Yet, having once confided, your affection should be my recompence—my sacrifice should be a cheerful and a voluntary one; I would determine not to harrass you with doubts nor jealousies, I would neither reflect upon the past, nor distrust the future: I would rest upon you, I would confide in you fearlessly and entirely! but, though I would not enquire after the past, my delicacy would require the assurance of your present, undivided, affection. 'The fourth idea that has occurred to me, is the probability of your having formed a plan of seeking some agreeable woman of fortune, who should be willing to reward a man of merit for the injustice of society. Whether you may already have experienced some disappointments of this nature, I will not pretend to determine. I can conceive, that, by many women, a coxcomb might be preferred to you—however this may be, the plan is not unattended with risque, nor with some possible degrading circumstances—and you may succeed, and yet be miserable: happiness depends not upon the abundance of our possessions. 'The last case which I shall state, and on which I shall lay little comparative stress, is the possibility of an engagement of a very inferior nature—a mere affair of the senses. The arguments which might here be adduced are too obvious to be repeated. Besides, I think highly of your refinement and delicacy—Having therefore just hinted, I leave it with you. 'And now to conclude—After considering all I have urged, you may, perhaps, reply—That the subject is too nice and too subtle for reasoning, and that the heart is not to be compelled. These, I think, are mistakes. There is no subject, in fact, that may not be subjected to the laws of investigation and reasoning. What is it that we desire—pleasure—happiness? I allow, pleasure is the supreme good: but it may be analyzed—it must have a stable foundation—to this analysis I now call you! This is the critical moment, upon which hangs