What a deal of patience and philosophy am I master of, to be here at my
pen, whilst two old men are sucking in the honey which I should lay up
for a winter's store?--Like Time, nothing can stand before her:--she
mows down all ages.--Even Morgan, that man who us'd to look on a fine
woman with more indifference than a horse or dog,--is now
new-moulded;--not one oath in the space where I have known twenty escape
him:--instead of following his dogs the whole morning, he is eternally
with the ladies.

If he rides out with my angel, for he's determin'd, he says, to make her
a complete horsewoman, I must not presume to give the least direction,
or _even_ touch the bridle.

I honour him for the tender regard he shews her:--yes, I go further;
_he_ and _Mr. Watson_ may _love_ her;--they do _love_ her, and glory in
declaring it.--I _love_ them in return;--but they are the only two, of
all the race of batchelors within my knowledge, that should make _such_
a declaration with impunity.

Let me see: I shall be in London Saturday evening;--Sunday, no
post;--Monday, _then_ I determine to write to Sir James;--Wednesday, I
may have an answer;--_Thursday_,--who knows but _Thursday!_--nothing is
impossible; who knows but _Thursday_ I may return to all my hopes?--How
much I resemble a shuttlecock! how am I thrown from side to side by hope
and fear; now up, now down; no sooner mounted by one hand than lower'd
by another!

This moment a gleam of comfort steals sweetly through my heart;--but it
is gone even before I could bid it welcome.--Why so fast!--to what spot