pped you: envy itself, which has of
late reared up its venomous head against you, was awed, by your superior
worthiness, into silence and admiration. You was the soul of every
company where you visited. Your elders have I seen declining to offer
their opinions upon a subject till you had delivered yours; often, to
save themselves the mortification of retracting theirs, when they heard
yours. Yet, in all this, your sweetness of manners, your humility and
affability, caused the subscription every one made to your sentiments,
and to your superiority, to be equally unfeigned, and unhesitating; for
they saw that their applause, and the preference they gave you to
themselves, subjected not themselves to insults, nor exalted you into any
visible triumph over them; for you had always something to say on every
point you carried that raised the yielding heart, and left every one
pleased and satisfied with themselves, though they carried not off the
palm.

Your works were showed or referred to wherever fine works were talked of.
Nobody had any but an inferior and second-hand praise for diligence, for
economy, for reading, for writing, for memory, for facility in learning
every thing laudable, and even for the more envied graces of person and
dress, and an all-surpassing elegance in both, where you were known, and
those subjects talked of.

The poor blessed you every step you trod: the rich thought you their
honour, and took a pride that they were not obliged to descend from their
own class for an example that did credit to it.

Though all men wished for you, and sought you, young as you were; yet,
had not those who were brought to address you been encouraged out of
sordid and spiteful views, not one of them would have dared to lift up
his eyes to you.

Thus happy in all about you, thus making happy all within your circle,
could you think that nothing would happen to you, to convince you that
you were not to be exempted from the common lot?--To convinced you, that
you were not absolutely perfect; and that you must not expect to pass
through life without trial, temptation, and misfortune?

Indeed, it must be owned that no trial, no temptation, worthy of your
virtue, and of your prudence, could well have attacked you sooner,
because of your tender years, and more effectually, than those heavy ones
under which you struggle; since it must be allowed, that you equanimity
and foresight made you superior to common accidents; for a