renders the tender ones more tyrannic.

"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed--the
object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
pursuits.--I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
of."

He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and made her feel something
like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
comfort her--and was a comfort to her.

"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!--enchanting wit! has
made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
and woman--lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.

"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before