dren in any case; but my having given them the misfortune of such a father, endears them doubly to my heart: they are innocent-they depend upon me and I feel this the most tender of all claims. While I live, my fondest attention shall be theirs!

All my life I loved the unfortunate, and ever will. Did you ever read Fielding's Amelia? If you have not, I beg you would. There are scenes in it, tender, domestic scenes, which I have read. over and over, with feelings too delightful to describe! I meant a "Booth," as such a one infinitely to be preferred to a brutal, though perhaps constant husband. I can conceive a man fond of his wife, yet (Sylvander-like) hurried into a momentary deviation, while his heart remained faithful. If he concealed it, it could not hurt me; but if, unable to bear the anguish of self-reproach, he unbosomed it to me, I would not only forgive him, but comfort and speak kindly, and in secret only weep. Reconciliation, in such a case, would be exquisite beyond almost any thing I can conceive! Do you now understand me on this subject? I was uneasy till it was explained; for all I have said, I know not if I had been an 66 Amelia," even with a

"Booth." My resentments are keen, like all my other feelings; I am exquisitively alive to kindness and to unkindness. The first binds me for ever! But I have none of the spaniel in my nature. The last would soon cure me, though I loved to distraction. But all this is not, perhaps, interesting to Sylvander. I have seen nobody to-day; and, like a true egotist, talk away to please myself. I am not in a humour to answer your creed tonight.

I have been puzzling my brain about the fair one you bid me "not guess at." I first thought it your Jean; but I don't know if she now possesses your "tenderest, faithfulest friendship." I can't understand that bonny lassie: her refusal, after such proofs of love, proves her to be either an angel or a dolt. I beg pardon; I know not all the circumstances, and am no judge therefore. I love your continued fondness, even after enjoyment: few of your sex have souls in such cases. But I take this to be the test of true love-mere desire is all the bulk of people are susceptible of; and that is soon satiated. "Your good wishes." You had mine, Sylvander, before I saw you. You will have them

you

for

while I live. With you; I wish I had a little of the cart-horse in me. You and I have some horse properties; but more of the eagle, and too much of the turtle dove! Good night!

Thursday Morning.

Your friend,

CLARINDA.

This day is so good that I'll make out my call to your square. I am laughing to myself at announcing this for the third time. Were she who "poisons your peace," to intend you a Pisgah view, she could do no more than I have done on this trivial occasion. Keep a good heart, Sylvander. The eternity of your love-sufferings will be ended before six weeks. Such perjuries the "Laughing gods allow." But remember, there is no such toleration in friendship, and

I am yours,

LETTER XVII.

SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA.

CLARINDA.

[January 10th.]

I am certain I saw you, Clarinda; but you don't

look to the proper story for a poet's lodging,

"Where Speculation roosted near the sky."

I could almost have thrown myself over, for very vexation. Why didn't you look higher? It has spoilt my peace for this day. To be so near my charming Clarinda; to miss her look while it was searching for me. I am sure the soul is capable of disease; for mine has convulsed itself into an inflammatory fever. I am sorry for your little boy do let me know to-morrow how he is.

You have converted me, Clarinda, (I shall love that name while I live: there is heavenly music in it.) Booth and Amelia I know well. Your sentiments on that subject, as they are on every subject, are just and noble. "To be feelingly alive to kindness and to unkindness," is a charming female character.

What I said in my last letter, the powers of fuddling sociality only know for me. By yours, I understand my good star has been partly in my horizon, when I got wild in my reveries. Had that evil planet, which has almost all my life shed its baleful rays on my devoted head, been as usual in its zenith, I had certainly blabbed something that would have pointed out to you the dear

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1

object of my tenderest friendship, and, in spite of me, something more. Had that fatal information escaped me, and it was merely chance or kind stars that it did not, I had been undone! You would never have written me, except, perhaps, once more! O, I could curse circumstances! and the coarse tie of human laws which keeps fast what common sense would loose, and which bars that happiness itself cannot give-happiness which otherwise love and honour would warrant! But hold-I shall make no more" hair-breadth 'scapes."

My friendship, Clarinda, is a different business. My likings are both strong and eternal. I told you I had but one male friend: I have but two female. I should have a third, but she is surrounded by the blandishments of flattery and courtship. Her I register in my heart's core by Peggy Chalmers :* Miss Nimmo can tell you how divine she is.

She is worthy of a place in

* Miss Margaret Chalmers was a highly valued friend of Burns, with whom he corresponded, and upon whom he wrote one or two songs. In 1788 she married Mr. Lewis Hay, a partner in the Banking-house of Sir William Forbes

& Co. She resided many years at Pau, in Berne, where she

died at an advanced age in the spring of 1843.