whole truth. I do not think my reluctance to draw the follies of my
brother from oblivion a culpable one. I am willing to rely, for my
justification from malicious charges, on the general tenor of my actions,
and am scarcely averse to buy my brother's reputation at the cost of my
own. The censure of the undistinguishing and undistinguished multitude
gives me little uneasiness. Indeed, the disapprobation of those who have
no particular connection with us is a very faint, dubious, and momentary
feeling. We are thought of, now and then, by chance, and immediately
forgotten. Their happiness is unaffected by the sentence casually
pronounced on us, and we suffer nothing, since it scarcely reaches our
ears, and the interval between the judge and the culprit hinders it from
having any influence on their actions. Not so when the censure reaches
those who love us. The charge engrosses their attention, influences their
happiness, and regulates their deportment towards us. My self-regard, and
my regard for you, equally lead me to vindicate myself to you from any
charge, however chimerical or obsolete it may be.

My brother went to France. He seemed disposed to forget that he ever
had kindred or country; never informed us of his situation and views. All
our tidings of him came to us indirectly. In this way we heard that he
procured a commission in the republican troops, had made some fortunate
campaigns, and had enriched himself by lucky speculations in the forfeited
estates.

My mother was informed, by some one lately returned from Paris, that
Frank had attained possession of the whole property of an emigrant Compte
de Puysegur, who was far from being the poorest of the ancient nobles;
that he lived? with princely luxury, in the count's hotel; that he had
married, according to the new mode, the compte's sister, and was probably,
for the remainder of his life, a Frenchman. He is attentive to his