copy of it below, as an unanswerable
performance.

TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE

Once again, my inflexible Sister, I write to you. It is to let you know,
that the pretty piece of art you found out to make me the vehicle
of your whining pathetics to your father and mother, has not had the
expected effect.

I do assure you, that your behaviour has not been misrepresented--nor
need it. Your mother, who is solicitous to take all opportunities of
putting the most favourable constructions upon all you do, has been
forced, as you well know, to give you up, upon full trial. No need then
of the expedient of pursuing your needleworks in her sight. She cannot
bear your whining pranks: and it is for her sake, that you are not
permitted to come into her presence--nor will be, but upon her own
terms.

You had like to have made a simpleton of your aunt Hervey yesterday:
she came down from you, pleading in your favour. But when she was asked,
What concession she had brought you to? she looked about her, and knew
not what to answer. So your mother, when surprised into the beginning
of your cunning address to her and to your father, under my name, (for
I had begun to read it, little suspecting such an ingenious
subterfuge,)and would then make me read it through, wrung her hands, Oh!
her dear child, her dear child, must not be so compelled!--But when she
was asked, Whether she would be willing to have for her son-in-law the
man who bids defiance to her whole family; and who had like to have
murdered her son? And what concession she had gained from her dear child
to merit this tenderness? And that for one who had apparently deceived
her in assuring her that her heart was free?--Then could she look
about her, as her sister had done before: then was she again brought to
herself, and to a resolution to assert her authority [not to transfer
it, witty presumer!] over the rebel, who of late has so ungratefully
struggled to throw it off.

You seem, child, to have a high notion of the matrimonial duty; and I'll
warrant, like the rest of your sex, (one or two, whom I have the honour
to know, excepted,) that you will go to church to promise what you will
never think of afterwards. But, sweet child! as your worthy Mamma Norton
calls you, think a little less of the matrimonial, (at least, till you
come into that state,) and a little more of the filial duty.

How can you say, you are to bear all the misery, when you give so large
a share of it to