accepted her, stipulating of course that she should be helped. I
wondered how she could retain her love for me, how she could kiss me
so tenderly morning and night, and apparently not remember my
unkindness to her. But therein lies the difference between a man
and a woman. Woman is Christian. A woman's love will sweep like a
river in flood over a wrong which has been done to it and bury it
for ever.

I am not regenerate, but who is ever regenerate? My insignificance
and defects do not worry me as they did: I do not kick at them, and
I am no longer covetous of other people's talents and virtues. I am
grateful for affection, for kindness, and even for politeness. What
a tremendous price do we have to pay for what we so slowly learn,
and learn so late!



A LETTER TO THE 'RAMBLER'



Sent to the Rambler March 1752, but, alas, in that month the Rambler
came to an end. I am not sorry it was not printed. On re-reading
it I find passages here and there which are unconscious and
unavoidable imitations of Dr. Johnson. No use in re-writing them
now.

J. R.
June 1760.