I shall feel a much higher gratification in
reflecting on this trifling performance, than could possibly result
from the applause which might attend the most elegant finished piece
of literature whose tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the
understanding.

CHARLOTTE TEMPLE,

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I.

A BOARDING SCHOOL.

"ARE you for a walk," said Montraville to his companion, as they arose
from table; "are you for a walk? or shall we order the chaise and
proceed to Portsmouth?" Belcour preferred the former; and they sauntered
out to view the town, and to make remarks on the inhabitants, as they
returned from church.

Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his brother
officer: they had been to take leave of their friends previous to their
departure for America, and were now returning to Portsmouth, where the
troops waited orders for embarkation. They had stopped at Chichester
to dine; and knowing they had sufficient time to reach the place of
destination before dark, and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it
being Sunday afternoon, to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as
they returned from their devotions.

They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return to the
inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, when
Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from the church.
Such an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally attracted the young
soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little cavalcade passed, almost
involuntarily pulled off their hats. A tall, elegant girl looked at
Montraville and blushed: he instantly recollected the features of
Charlotte Temple, whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at
Portsmouth. At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child,
she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made in
her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her cheeks as
she passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas. Vanity led him
to think that pleasure at again beholding him might have occasioned the
emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity led him to wish to see her
again.

"She is the sweetest girl in the world," said he, as he entered the inn.
Belcour stared. "Did you not notice her?" continued Montraville: "she
had on a blue bonnet, and with a pair of lovely eyes of the same colour,
has contrived to make me feel devilish odd about the heart."

"Pho," sai