ase in their
Manners and address which could not fail of pleasing--. Imagine my
dear Madam how delighted I must have been in beholding as I did, how
attentively they observed every object they saw, how disgusted with some
Things, how enchanted with others, how astonished at all! On the whole
however they returned in raptures with the World, its Inhabitants, and
Manners. Yrs Ever--A. F.

LETTER the SECOND From a YOUNG LADY crossed in Love to her freind

Why should this last disappointment hang so heavily on my spirits? Why
should I feel it more, why should it wound me deeper than those I
have experienced before? Can it be that I have a greater affection for
Willoughby than I had for his amiable predecessors? Or is it that our
feelings become more acute from being often wounded? I must suppose my
dear Belle that this is the Case, since I am not conscious of being more
sincerely attached to Willoughby than I was to Neville, Fitzowen, or
either of the Crawfords, for all of whom I once felt the most lasting
affection that ever warmed a Woman's heart. Tell me then dear Belle why
I still sigh when I think of the faithless Edward, or why I weep when I
behold his Bride, for too surely this is the case--. My Freinds are all
alarmed for me; They fear my declining health; they lament my want
of spirits; they dread the effects of both. In hopes of releiving my
melancholy, by directing my thoughts to other objects, they have invited
several of their freinds to spend the Christmas with us. Lady Bridget
Darkwood and her sister-in-law, Miss Jane are expected on Friday; and
Colonel Seaton's family will be with us next week. This is all most
kindly meant by my Uncle and Cousins; but what can the presence of a
dozen indefferent people do to me, but weary and distress me--. I will
not finish my Letter till some of our Visitors are arrived.

Friday Evening Lady Bridget came this morning, and with her, her sweet
sister Miss Jane--. Although I have been acquainted with this charming
Woman above fifteen Years, yet I never before observed how lovely she
is. She is now about 35, and in spite of sickness, sorrow and Time is
more blooming than I ever saw a Girl of 17. I was delighted with her,
the moment she entered the house, and she appeared equally pleased with
me, attaching herself to me during the remainder of the day. There is
something so sweet, so mild in her Countenance, that she seems more than
Mortal. Her Conversation is as bewit