h down every other heart
that had but half the compassion in it with which his overflows--Must not
all other men appear little, and, less than little, nothing, in my eyes?
--It is an instance of patience in me, that I can endure any of them who
pretend to regard me out of my own family.

I thought, that when I got down to my dear friends here, I should be
better enabled, by their prudent counsels, to attain the desirable frame
of mind which I had promised myself: but I find myself mistaken. My
grandmamma and aunt are such admirers of him, take such a share in the
disappointment, that their advice has not the effect I had hoped it would
have. Lucy, Nancy, are perpetually calling upon me to tell them
something of Sir Charles Grandison; and when I begin, I know not how to
leave off. My uncle rallies me, laughs at me, sometimes reminds me of
what he calls my former brags. I did not brag, my dear: I only hoped,
that respecting as I did every man according to his merit, I should never
be greatly taken with any one, before duty added force to the
inclination. Methinks the company of the friends I am with, does not
satisfy me; yet they never were dearer to me than they now are. I want
to have Lord and Lady L----, Lord and Lady G----, Dr. Bartlett, my Emily,
with me. To lose you all at once!--is hard!--There seems to be a strange
void in my heart--And so much, at present, for the state of that heart.

I always had reason to think myself greatly obliged to my friends and
neighbours all around us; but never, till my return, after these few
months absence, knew how much. So many kind visitors; such unaffected
expressions of joy on my return; that had I not a very great
counterbalance on my heart, would be enough to make me proud.

My grandmamma went to Shirley-manor on Saturday; on Monday I was with her
all day: but she would have it that I should be melancholy if I staid
with her. And she is so self-denyingly careful of her Harriet! There
never was a more noble heart in woman. But her solitary moments, as my
uncle calls them, are her moments of joy. And why? Because she then
divests herself of all that is either painful or pleasurable to her in
this life: for she says, that her cares for her Harriet, and especially
now, are at least a balance for the delight she takes in her.

You command me to acquaint you with what passes between me and the
gentlemen in my neighbourhood; in your style, my fellows.

Mr. Fenwick invited himsel