ged, by thy penetration, fair one,
to proceed by the sap. Fair and softly. A wife at any time! Marriage
will be always in my power.

When put to the university, the same course of initial studies will
qualify the yonker for the one line or the other. The genius ought to
point out the future lawyer, divine, or physician!--So the same cautious
conduct, with such a vigilance, will do either for the wife, or for the
no-wife. When I reform, I'll marry. 'Tis time enough for the one, the
lady must say--for the other, say I!

But how I ramble!--This is to be in such a situation, that I know not
what to resolve upon.

I'll tell thee my inclinings, as I proceed. The pro's and the con's I'll
tell thee: but being got too far from the track I set out in, I will
close here. I may, however, write every day something, and send it as
opportunity offers.

Regardless, nevertheless, I shall be in all I write, of connection,
accuracy, or of any thing but of my own imperial will and pleasure.

LETTER VIII

MISS HOWE, TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE WEDNESDAY NIGHT, APRIL 12.

I have your narrative, my dear. You are the same noble creature you
ever were. Above disguise, above art, above attempting to extenuate a
failing.

The only family in the world, yours, surely, that could have driven such
a daughter upon such extremities.

But you must not be so very much too good for them, and for the case.

You lay the blame so properly and so unsparingly upon your meeting him,
that nothing can be added to that subject by your worst enemies, were
they to see what you have written.

I am not surprised, now I have read your narrative, that so bold and so
contriving a man--I am forced to break off----

*****

You stood it out much better and longer--Here again comes my bustling,
jealous mother!

*****

Don't be angry at yourself. Did you not do for the best at the time? As
to your first fault, the answering his letters; it was always incumbent
upon you to assume the guardianship of such a family, when the bravo of
it had run riot, as he did, and brought himself into danger.

Except your mother, who has no will of her own, have any of them common
sense?

Forgive me, my dear--Here is that stupid uncle Antony of yours. A
pragmatical, conceited positive.--He came yesterday, in a fearful
pucker, and puffed, and blowed, and stumped about our hall and parlour,
while his message was carried up.

My mother was dressing. These wido