IV.--TO ELLISON BEGBIE.

[LOCHLIE, 178l.]

MY DEAR E.,--I have often thought it a peculiarly unlucky circumstance
in love, that though, in every other situation in life, telling the
truth is not only the safest, but actually by far the easiest way of
proceeding, a lover is never under greater difficulty in acting, or more
puzzled for expression, than when his passion is sincere, and his
intentions are honourable. I do not think that it is very difficult for
a person of ordinary capacity to talk of love and fondness which are not
felt, and to make vows of constancy and fidelity which are never
intended to be performed, if he be villain enough to practice such
detestable conduct; but to a man whose heart glows with the principles
of integrity and truth, and who sincerely loves a woman of amiable
person, uncommon refinement of sentiment, and purity of manners--to such
a one, in such circumstances, I can assure you, my dear, from my own
feelings at this present moment, courtship is a task indeed. There is
such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd into
my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to you,
that what to speak or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.

There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is, honestly to tell you the plain
truth. There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be used by any
one in so noble, so generous a passion as virtuous love. No, my dear E.,
I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such detestable
practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to admit me for
your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through life, there is