fosters them? How illusive, perhaps the most so, are the plans of
happiness founded on virtue and principle; what inlets of misery do
they not open in a half-civilised society? The satisfaction arising
from conscious rectitude, will not calm an injured heart, when
tenderness is ever finding excuses; and self-applause is a cold
solitary feeling, that cannot supply the place of disappointed
affection, without throwing a gloom over every prospect, which,
banishing pleasure, does not exclude pain. I reasoned and reasoned;
but my heart was too full to allow me to remain in the house, and I
walked, till I was wearied out, to purchase rest--or rather
forgetfulness.

Employment has beguiled this day, and to-morrow I set out for Moss,
on my way to Stromstad. At Gothenburg I shall embrace my Fannikin;
probably she will not know me again--and I shall be hurt if she do
not. How childish is this! still it is a natural feeling. I would
not permit myself to indulge the "thick coming fears" of fondness,
whilst I was detained by business. Yet I never saw a calf bounding
in a meadow, that did not remind me of my little frolicker. A calf,
you say. Yes; but a capital one I own.

I cannot write composedly--I am every instant sinking into reveries-
-my heart flutters, I know not why. Fool! It is time thou wert at
rest.

Friendship and domestic happiness are continually praised; yet how
little is there of either in the world, because it requires more
cultivation of mind to keep awake affection, even in our own hearts,
than the common run of people suppose. Besides, few like to be seen
as they really are; and a degree of simplicity, and of undisguised