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October tj* T COULD tear open my bosom, I .*. could beat my head against the wall, when I see how difficult it is to communicate our ideas, our sensations to others; to make them en"ter intirely into our feelings. I cannot receive from another the love, the joy, the warmth, the pleasure, that I do not naturally possess; nor with a heart glowing with the most lively affection, can I make the happiness of one in whom the fame warmth and energy are not inherent.
LETTER LETTER LXV.
October 30. A Hundred times have I been **■ .*. upon the point of catching her in my arms! What torment it is to see such loveliness, such charms, passing and repassing continually before one, and not dare to touch them! To touch is so natural: Do not children touch every thing that they see? and I!——— .
■v . . November 3.
T TO W often when I have lain ~ •*■ down in my bed have I wished never to wake again? and in the morning I open my eyes, I again behold the sun, and I am wretched. Oh ! why am I not fanciful and hypochondriacal ? Why cannot I attribute my woes to intemperate seasons, to disappointed ambition, to the per-. secutions of an enemy? for then this insupportable load of discontent would not rest wholly upon myself. But, wretched that I am! I feel it but too sensibly, I alone am the
cause of mjr unhappiness; this same "bosom which formerly contained a source of delight, is now the source of all my torments. Am I not the fame man who formerly felt only agreeable sensations? who every step he took saw paradise before him, and whose heart was expanded, and full of benevolence to the whole world. But this heart is now dead, Jdead to all sentiment: my eyes are dry, and my senses, no longer refreshed by soft tears, wkfeer away, and perish, and consume my braia. My sufferings are great: I have lost the only charm of my life; that active sacred power, which created
worlds worlds around me; it is no more. Prom my window I fee the distant hills; the rising sun breaks through the mists, onens wide the prospect, and illuminates the country. I see the soft stream gently winding through the willows stripped of their leaves. Nature displays all her -beauties before me, exhibits the jtnost enchanting scenes, and my heart is unmoved; I remain blind, insensible, petrified. Often have J implored Heaven for tears, as the labourer prays for dews to moisten .the parched corn.