row. She left me, and presently departed the house-I did the

same.

When reflecting on this, here in my chamber, I thought the past a very pleasant, yet a very painful entertainment. I saw her indeed to-night, and she will explain to-morrow-till then I shall have little rest.

Here I was sitting, and had not commenced the preliminaries to retiring; when I thought the outer gate was to be knocked down with furious blows. I went to my window; hailed the Hercules below, and on receiving a reply, discovered by the voice, that it was one I well knew, one who said he wished to see me before I had retired to bed. Down I went and opening the postern, led him into the poet's retreat, but not to a blazing fire. Well there we two, well-dressed party gentleman sat, gathering closely over the dying embers in the grate. When he told me, he had something to say to me, that he could not in duty allow to lay over for the morning; he said he observed 1 paid particular attention to a young lady, and so did another young gentleman more jealous than himself observe the same: this gentleman knew the lady's father, who looked more kindly on him than the lady; her father on seeing you conversing with her, inquired of this young man your name, profession, and parts; you know I have said he was jealous,-I promise you I will not mention his name to you, and, moreover, I wish you, for yourself, to be quiet, and let him pursue his foolish course. Well, this young man informed him that you were likely to be discarded by your father on account of your settled bad habits, and your worse opinions which he did not fail to enumerate for the edification of the old gentleman the latter seemed, as naturally he should under such

representations, vexed that you should be acquainted with his daughter; and he will, very likely, when he meets you, not notice you, or if he does, it will only be to insult you. To inform and to warn you, I considered worth arousing you, or, if you were not asleep, bringing you to the gate." I told him how much obliged I felt, that I knew the young man, and if the father would but give me an opportunity, I would set all right in his mind, and till such was the case, I deemed it advisable that I should not see his daughter. I told him I knew nothing that could induce the young man to speak thus of me,—but perhaps it is very natural; he liked her as well as myself, and all men are not honorable in love, any more than in making bargains. I again thanked my informant as he arose to go—we drank a glass of wine together and he left.

I sat up and thought for some time; and the result of my thinking was, that instead of paying the promised visit, I should, in a note, give a reason for not doing so, and in it hint at her father's probable impression concerning myself. By so doing I should discover if she really possessed any affection for me, and I would then proceed accordingly in my course, despite acquaintance, or father, or world, or aught else, for we brave every terror, and every feeling, too, for those who love us -we will do an hundred times more for those who love us than those we love-so much more value do we place on the affec. tion of others than our own-we feel that it is a superior affection-but I will deface my friend's letter no more in writing an useless explanation on it.

DEAR MISS :

January, 21st.

By circumstances over which I had no control, have I been

placed in a very delicate and peculiar position; contrary to all etiquette, I have known you without an introduction: seeing you at the theatre-and merely seeing you, and being quite won by charms you had, and qualities I imagined you possess. ed-I should not have sought to address, or in the least to recognize you but a circumstance about a month ago, placed me again, without being conscious of it, in your very presence, and put it in my power to do you a slight favor-for that even, I would not have assumed upon an acquaintance; but for your kindness afterwards, and on both that evening and the next day, I think I might claim such acquaintance. I thought, but I may have been mistaken, that you were very kind, and for that kindness I was, I hope, not unfortunately induced to love you; and when a man loves, who has never loved before, how unkind and ungenerous would it be to cast him hopelessly

away.

I, you see, am unwilling to believe my fate till I shall hear it from yourself--and in giving the sad, hopeless intelligence to my heart; soften it so that it may not be crushed, because, as I have told you, it is young and never loved before-do not put out its flame as a candle is put out by the wind: Ah! use it gently, and as a fair plant from which the first flower is to be plucked, not so harshly treat it, as it may never bloom again; and if you will deprive it of its first flower, let its later, less sweet, and less perfect in beauty, be gathered by another hand. You would not destroy the plant, you have its best,-I fear its all.

The pleasant thoughts which I have devoted to you, I hereby seal your right to possess and keep, for though you may not love me you have seemed to deserve them. The me

mory of delightful moments shall be to me. I shall not seek to dismiss past thoughts: I would not though I could. What! drive away my good angel from me entirely? Never. If you have not cared for me—if through coquetry you have induced me to believe you loved me, even then I love you, though love then may be mingled with feelings of bitterness. I love you that you did make some of the hours of my strange life pleasant

that you perhaps, did keep me from a desperate act—and caused me to hope and love, when father, friends, and the whole world were in arms against me.

Ere this, I should have stated my reason for not coming to see you-it was simply this; that it might make you feel unpleasantly for a stranger whom you hesitated last night in giving permission to see you to-day-that stranger, whom your father, from misrepresentations, might be induced to spurn from his and your presence should he come into it. This is my reason-potent reason, I consider it. Powerful as it was, however, or that portion respecting your father; had I believed you loved me, it should have had no force-for when love prompts a man, and when man sees a woman loves him—nothing can deter him—nothing stop him. You know not, neither can woman know, the feelings of a man who feels assured that he is loved. Pray what will a man do if he knows a poor brute dog loves him? and, ah! what would he not do, if he knew a sweet woman loved him? He would forget all occupation-every feeling that he is wont to have, and turn loose the two Niagara streams of soul and mind, to overwhelm and crush every meaner thing in its way, till the object of his devotion were gained.

I know not whether you may deem a reply either necessary or becoming to a note from such an individual as myself-there

fore I may discover in your silence that you approve the step I have taken and that you wish no longer to know me, even as an ordinary acquaintance. If such be the case, you shall be gratified, and I will never know you again—but the recollection of the past, like the dear little stories of my childhood, shall still enchain and enchant me to my life's end-and when my earthly career is about to close, the moments I have spent with you, shall with the pleasant thoughts and actions, and those things not to be regretted in life, come over me and sweeten that which I look to as being the joyous time of our existence-the moments of death.

With respect,

JANUARY 22d.-How many actions may a man perform, each quite distinct from the rest, in a remarkably small space of time? how may feelings varying without end, may one have in an equally short time? The whole man is said to be governed by laws, not only physical, moral, and intellectual, but laws which govern his actions, and laws which regulate his feelings but he wanders so far from these laws frequently, that it were impossible to trace even a shadow-find even a remnant of the rule, in anything he does, or feels. This arises from a whimsicality, and uncertainty, and an indifference oftentimes as to the effect which certain circumstances may have upon him. He argues, and almost every man argues so that fate will direct me to the most desirable end. However this may be, it were useless to philosophize where so little actual good, is to be obtained by so doing; men will pursue an accustomed path, because it is the easiest-and to this, I not being a ruler of men-shall in no wise demur-but I shall always