gave rise to, only
served to expose her to continual disappointments, and keep hope alive
merely to torment her. After a violent debauch he would let his beard
grow, and the sadness that reigned in the house I shall never forget; he
was ashamed to meet even the eyes of his children. This is so contrary to
the nature of things, it gave me exquisite pain; I used, at those times,
to show him extreme respect. I could not bear to see my parent humble
himself before me. However neither his constitution, nor fortune could
long bear the constant waste. He had, I have observed, a childish
affection for his children, which was displayed in caresses that
gratified him for the moment, yet never restrained the headlong fury of
his appetites; his momentary repentance wrung his heart, without
influencing his conduct; and he died, leaving an encumbered wreck of a
good estate.

As we had always lived in splendid poverty, rather than in affluence, the
shock was not so great; and my mother repressed her anguish, and
concealed some circumstances, that she might not shed a destructive
mildew over the gaiety of youth.

So fondly did I doat on this dear parent, that she engrossed all my
tenderness; her sorrows had knit me firmly to her, and my chief care was
to give her proofs of affection. The gallantry that afforded my
companions, the few young people my mother forced me to mix with, so much
pleasure, I despised; I wished more to be loved than admired, for I could
love. I adored virtue; and my imagination, chasing a chimerical object,
overlooked the common pleasures of life; they were not sufficient for my
happiness. A latent fire made me burn to rise superior to my
contemporaries in wisdom and virtue; and tears of joy and emulation
filled my eyes when I read an account of a great action--I felt
admiration, not astonishment.

My mother had two particular friends, who endeavoured to settle her
affairs; one was a middle-aged man, a merchant; the human breast never
enshrined a more benevolent heart. His manners were rather rough, and he
bluntly spoke his thoughts without observing the pain it gave; yet he
possessed extreme tenderness, as far as his discernment went. Men do not
make sufficient distinction, said she, digressing from her story to
address Sagestus, between tenderness and sensibility.

To give the shortest definition of sensibility, replied the sage, I
should say that it is the result of acute senses, finely fashioned
nerves,