The inconstant turns of every changing hour.
--Pierce Gaveston, by M. Drayton.

Je me retire donc.--Adieu, Paris, adieu!
--Boileau.

When I returned home, I found on my table the following letter from my
mother:

"My dear Henry,

"I am rejoiced to hear you are so well entertained at Paris--that you
have been so often to the D--s and C--s; that Coulon says you are his
best pupil--that your favourite horse is so much admired--and that you
have only exceeded your allowance by a L1,000; with some difficulty I
have persuaded your uncle to transmit you an order for L1,500, which
will, I trust, make up all your deficiencies.

"You must not, my dear child, be so extravagant for the future, and for a
very good reason, namely, I do not see how you can. Your uncle, I fear,
will not again be so generous, and your father cannot assist you. You
will therefore see more clearly than ever the necessity of marrying an
heiress: there are only two in England (the daughters of gentlemen)
worthy of you--the most deserving of these has L10,000 a year, the other
has L150,000. The former is old, ugly, and very ill tempered; the latter
tolerably pretty, and agreeable, and just of age; but you will perceive
the impropriety of even thinking of her till we have tried the other. I
am going to ask both to my Sunday soirees, where I never admit any single
men, so that there, at least, you will have no rivals.