losophical, sentimental, dull kind of an epistle this!

But you deserve it, for not answering my last, which was divine.

I am pleased with Emily's ideas about her dress at the masquerade;
it is a proof you are still lovers.

I remember, the first symptoms I discovered of my _tendresse_
for Fitzgerald was my excessive attention to this article: I have
tried on twenty different caps when I expected him at Silleri.

Before we drop the subject of gallantries, I must tell you I am
charmed with you and my _sposo_, for never giving the least hint
before Emily and me that you have had any; it is a piece of delicacy
which convinces me of your tenderness more than all the vows that ever
lovers broke would do.

I have been hurt at the contrary behaviour in Temple; and have
observed Lucy to be so too, though her excessive attention not to give
him pain prevented her shewing it: I have on such an occasion seen a
smile on her countenance, and a tear of tender regret starting into her
eyes.

A woman who has vanity without affection will be pleased to hear of
your past conquests, and regard them as victims immolated to her
superior charms: to her, therefore, it is right to talk of them; but
to flatter the _heart_, and give delight to a woman who truly
loves, you should appear too much taken up with the present passion to
look back to the past: you should not even present to her imagination
the thought that you have had other engagements: we know such things
are, but had rather the idea should not be awakened: I may be wrong,
but I speak from my own feelings.

I am excessively pleased with a thought I met with in a little
French novel:

"Un homme qui ne peut plus compter ses bonnes fortunes, est de tous,
celui qui connoit le moins les _faveurs_. C'est le coeur qui les
accorde, & ce n'est pas le coeur qu'un homme a la mode interesse. Plus
on est _prone_ par les femmes, plus il est facile de les avoir,
mais moins il est possible de les enflammer."

To which truth I most heartily set my hand.

Twelve o'clock.

I have just heard from your sister, who tells me, Emily is turned a
little natural philosopher, reads Ray, Derham, and fifty other strange
old fellows that one never heard of, and is eternally poring through a
microscope to discover the wonders of creation.

How amazingly learned matrimony makes young ladies! I suppose we
shall have a volume of her discoveries bye and bye.

She says too, you have little pets like sw