odest respect which made the
humble offerer afraid to invade the awful eye, or the revered hand; but
awkwardly to drop its incense behind the altar it should have been laid
upon. But how should that soul, which could treat delicacy itself
brutally, know any thing of this!

But I am still more amazed at thy courage, to think of throwing thyself
in the way of Miss Howe, and Miss Arabella Harlowe!--Thou wilt not dare,
surely, to carry this thought into execution!

As to my dress, and thy dress, I have only to say, that the sum total of
thy observation is this: that my outside is the worst of me; and thine
the best of thee: and what gettest thou by the comparison? Do thou
reform the one, I'll try to mend the other. I challenge thee to begin.

Mrs. Lovick gave me, at my request, the copy of a meditation she showed
me, which was extracted by the lady from the scriptures, while under
arrest at Rowland's, as appears by the date. The lady is not to know
that I have taken a copy.

You and I always admired the noble simplicity, and natural ease and
dignity of style, which are the distinguishing characteristics of these
books, whenever any passages from them, by way of quotation in the works
of other authors, popt upon us. And once I remember you, even you,
observed, that those passages always appeared to you like a rich vein of
golden ore, which runs through baser metals; embellishing the work they
were brought to authenticate.

Try, Lovelace, if thou canst relish a Divine beauty. I think it must
strike transient (if not permanent) remorse into thy heart. Thou
boastest of thy ingenuousness: let this be the test of it; and whether
thou canst be serious on a subject too deep, the occasion of it resulting
from thyself.

MEDITATION
Saturday, July 15.

O that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the
balance together!

For now it would be heavier than the sand of the sea: therefore my words
are swallowed up!

For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; the poison whereof drinketh
up my spirit. The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me.

When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise? When will the night be gone?
And I am full of tossings to and fro, unto the dawning of the day.

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope--
mine eye shall no more see good.

Wherefore is light given to her that is in misery; and life unto the
bitter in soul?

Who l