by hook or by crook, into the sentimental vein.

At length we came to a clump of trees that overhung a whispering
brook, with a rustic bench at their feet. The trees were grievously
scored with letters and devices, which had grown out of all shape and
size by the growth of the bark; and it appeared that this grove had
served as a kind of register of the family loves from time immemorial.
Here Master Simon made a pause, pulled up a tuft of flowers, threw
them one by one into the water, and at length, turning somewhat
abruptly upon me, asked me if I had ever been in love. I confess the
question startled me a little, as I am not over-fond of making
confessions of my amorous follies; and above all, should never dream
of choosing my friend Master Simon for a confidant. He did not wait,
however, for a reply; the inquiry was merely a prelude to a confession
on his own part, and after several circumlocutions and whimsical
preambles, he fairly disburthened himself of a very tolerable story of
his having been crossed in love.

The reader will, very probably, suppose that it related to the gay
widow who jilted him not long since at Doncaster races;--no such
thing. It was about a sentimental passion that he once had for a most
beautiful young lady, who wrote poetry and played on the harp. He used
to serenade her; and, indeed, he described several tender and gallant
scenes, in which he was evidently picturing himself in his mind's eye
as some elegant hero of romance, though, unfortunately for the tale, I
only saw him as he stood before me, a dapper little old bachelor, with
a face like an apple that has dried with the bloom on it.

What were the particulars of this tender tale, I have already
forgotten; indeed, I listened to it with a heart like a very
pebble-stone, having hard work to repress a smile while Master Simon
was putting on the amorous swain, uttering every now and then a sigh,
and endeavouring to look sentimental and melancholy.

All that I recollect is that the lady, according to his account, was
certainly a little touched; for she used to accept all the music that
he copied for her harp, and all the patterns that he drew for her
dresses; and he began to flatter himself, after a long course of
delicate attentions, that he was gradually fanning up a gentle flame
in her heart, when she suddenly accepted the hand of a rich,
boisterous, fox-hunting baronet, without either music or sentiment,
who carried her by storm aft