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ment, whilst the snow and hail arc driving against my little window, I find myself restored to you and to myself. The moment I. entered, your figure presented itself before my eyes, and the remembrance of you filled my heart. Oh! my Charlotte, the sacred remembrance! the tender recollections ! — Gracious Heaven! restore to me that first moment in which I beheld her!

Could you but see me, my dear Charlotte, in that vortex where every 'thing dissipates' and nothing touches me! My senses are dried up; my .heart is at no time full ., I never Ihed .the soft tears of tenderness; no- ■ thing, thing, nothing touches me. I stand,as it were, before the rareeshow; I see the little puppets move, and I say to myself it is a deception of optics. I am amused with these puppets, or rather I am myself one of them. I take the hand of the man who stands next to me, I feel that it is made of wood, I shudder and draw mine back. I have found but one being here that* is of the fame order with you, a Miss B. She resembles you, my dear Charlotte, if indeed it is possible for any thing to resemble you. "Ah !" you will say " he has learnt to make elegant compliments." And there is some C 3 truth truth in your observation. I have been prodigiously agreeable lately, not having it in my power to be any thing better. 1 have a great deal of wit too, and the women say that nobody understands better how to deal out panegyric—" and lies>* you will add, for one always accompanies the other.—But I mean* to talk to you of Miss JB. She. has great sensibility, and a superior understanding v her fine blue eyes shew evident marks of both. Her rank is a burthen to her, and gratifies no one passion of her soul; she would gladly leave this crowd; and we often indulge our imagination in

talking, talking, for hours together, of happiness in retired and country scenes, and near you, my dear'Charlotte ;—. for she knows you, she does homage to you; but the homage is not ex. adted; she loves you; and takes great pleasure in hearing me talk of you.

Oh! why am I not at your feet in your favourite little room, and the dear children playing round us! If their noise became troublesome to you, I would tell them a story, and they would crowd about me with silent attention. The sun is setting; his last rays shine on the snow which ■covers the face of the country; the G 4 • storm storm is over, and I—must return to my dungeon. Adieu !—Is Albert with you, and what is he to you? Fool that I am! should I ask this question?

LETTER XLIII.

February 17. /"\ U R minister and I don't seem ^^ as if we should continue much longer together: his manner of treating a subject, and of doing business, is so absurd, that I cannot help contradicting him very often, and doing things my own way; and then,

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