vain and impertinent. But still I should suppose you will forgive me,
because you are so seldom troubled with such grave epistles; and one
now and then, if not intolerably long, may be endured from an elder
sister.

Yet why do I say elder? Neither age nor station have any just claim;
for there can be none, except the claims of truth and reason; against
which there is no appeal. I am eighteen months older than my brother,
and up rises the claim of eldership! Such are the habits, the
prejudices we have to counteract.

My dear mamma has mentioned Sir Arthur St. Ives, in her letter, and his
lovely daughter, Anna; more lovely in mind even than in form, and of
the latter a single glance will enable you to judge. I need not request
you to be attentive and civil to her, for it is impossible you should
be otherwise. Your own gratification will induce you to shew her the
public places, and render her every service in your power; which will
be more than overpaid by associating with her; for it is indeed a
delight to be in her company. For grace and beauty of person, she has
no equal; and still less can she be equalled, by any person of her age,
for the endowments of wit and understanding. I am half angry with
myself for pretending to recommend her; when, as you will see, she can
so much more effectually recommend herself.

I have nothing to add except to say that, when my dear brother has a
moment's leisure, I shall be glad to hear from him; and that I remain
his very affectionate sister,

L. CLIFTON