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be a man of consequence; and happyit is for you that you can attribute your sufferings to any foreign power. You do not know, you do not feel that your wretchedness is in your agitafed heart, in your disordered brain, and that all the kings and potentates on earth cannot restore you.

i Let their death be without consolation, who can laugh at the sick man that travels to distant springs, only to find an accumulation of disease, and a death 'more painful? or that can exult over the depressed mind, whoto attain peace of conscience, to alleviate his miseries, makes

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a pilgrimage to the Holy Land! Every step which wrings his feet in unbeaten paths, is a drop of balm to his soul, and each night brings new relief to his heart.—Will you dare to call this extravagance, you that raise yourselves upon stilts to make pompous declamations ?—Extravagance !—O God, thou seest my tears!—thou hast given unto us a sufficient portion of misery, must we also have brethren that persecute us, that would deprive us of all consolation, and take away our trust in thee, in thy love and mercy? The vine which strengthens us, the root which heals us, come from thy hand

—Relief —Relief and saving health are thine. —Father! whom I know not!—thou who wert wont to fill my soul, but now hidest thy face from me !—call me back, speak to my heart !—in vain thy silence would delay a soul which thirsts after thee !—What father wou Id be wrathful against his son, if he appeared suddenly before him and fell on his neck, and cried out, "Oh, my father! forgive me if I have shortened my journey, if I am returned before the appointed time! —The world is every where the same: —labour and pain, pleasure and reward, all were alike indifferent to me—I find happiness only in thy Vol. II. H presence, presence, and here let me remain whatever is my fate!"—And wouldst thou, heavenly and adored Father, banish this child from thy awful presence?

LETTER LXXII.

December:!. Ti /s Y dear friend, the man I de<*"*■ scribed to you, the man so enviable in his misfortunes, was secretary to Charlotte's father. He conceived an unhappy passion for her; he cherished, concealed, and at length discovered it—was dismissed, and became such as I yesterday

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saw him.—Think what an impression these few words made upon me, which Albert repeated with as much tranquillity, as perhaps you read them.

LETTER LXXIII.

December 4. TT is all over, my dear friend; I *■ can support this state no longer. To-day I was fitting by Charlotte; she was playing on her harpsicord with an expression it is impossible for me to describe to you. Her little sister was dressing her doll upon my lapj the tears came into my eyes; H 2 I leaned

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