Memoirs of Emma Courtney

sed only on general topics, or upon subjects of literature. I was introduced by Mr Harley to several respectable families, friends of his own and of his moth

confound my own conceptions with real existences.' When he spoke of a susceptibility to the tender affections, it was always in the past time,-'I have felt,'-'I have been-'Once he wrote-'His situation had been rendered difficult, by a combination of peculiar circumstances;

compensate for all the injuries I might suffer in the career. This inquietude prevented my mind from resting; and, by leaving room for conjecture, left room for the illusions of fancy, and of hope. Had I never expressed t

times, continue to mislead me. Objects seen through obscurity, imperfectly discerned, allow to the fancy but too free a scope; the mind grows debilitated, by brooding over its apprehensions; and those apprehensions, whether real or imaginary, are carried with a

e would be miles in return-every minute that the blow was suspended, prepared it to descend with accumulated force.' I required no pa

hardson's Clarissa that always pleased me, and that may afford a test, by which each of us may judge of the integrity of our own minds-"I should be glad that you, and all the world, knew my heart

have thought and felt on this, or on any other, subject, from the rest of the world. Had I not, in the wild career of fervent feeling, had sufficient strength of mind to stop short, and to reason calmly, how often, in the bitterness of my spirit, should I have accused you of sporting with my feelings, by involving me

ny other human being;-that you had not sought the confidence I boast of having reposed in you;-and that so far from affording you any satisfaction, it has occasioned you only perplexity.

uman heart-have you, indeed, ever felt the affections?-Whatever may be the event-and it is in the mind of powers only that passions are lik

ged my

h my existence, I yield myself up to these sweet and affecting emotions, so necessary to my disposition-to which apathy is abhorrent. "The affections (truly says Sterne) must be exercised on something; for, not to love, is to be miserable. Were I in a desart, I would find out wherewith in it to call forth my affections. If I could do no better, I would fast

or and purity; I will see you with joy, part from you with regret, grieve in your griefs, enter with zeal into your concerns, interest myself in your honour and welfare, and endeavour, with all my little power, to contribute to your comfort and satisfaction.-Is your heart so diffe

mm

ntarily, were softened, my attentions pointed.-Manifestly agitated, emb

to operate in one direction. Many letters passed to the same purport. My curiosity was a consuming passion; but this inflexible, impenetrab