aracter and _his_ attachment leave you nothing
to be ashamed of.

Upon the whole, what is to be done? You have no
inclination for any other person. His situation in
life, family, friends, and, above all, his
character, his uncommonly amiable mind, strict
principles, just notions, good habits, _all_ that
_you_ know so well how to value, _all_ that is
really of the first importance--everything of this
nature pleads his cause most strongly. You have
no doubt of his having superior abilities, he has
proved it at the University; he is, I dare say,
such a scholar as your agreeable, idle brothers
would ill bear a comparison with.

Oh, my dear Fanny! the more I write about him the
warmer my feelings become--the more strongly I
feel the sterling worth of such a young man and
the desirableness of your growing in love with him
again. I recommend this most thoroughly. There
_are_ such beings in the world, perhaps one in a
thousand, as the creature you and I should think
perfection, where grace and spirit are united to
worth, where the manners are equal to the heart
and understanding; but such a person may not come
in your way, or, if he does, he may not be the
eldest son of a man of fortune, the near relation
of your particular friend, and belonging to your
own county.

Think of all this, Fanny. Mr. A. has advantages
which we do not often meet in one person. His only
fault, indeed, seems modesty. If he were less
modest he would be more agreeable, speak louder,
and look impudenter; and is not it a fine
character of which modesty is the only defect? I
have no doubt he will get more lively and more
like yourselves as he is more with you; he will
catch your ways if he belongs to you. And, as to
there being any objection from his _goodness_,
from the danger of his becoming even evangelical,
I cannot admit _that_. I am by no means convinced
that we ought not all to be evangelicals, and am
at least persuaded that they who are so from
reason and feeling must be happiest and safest.

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