sure I am, that sharing life with you would have given it a relish,
that, wanting you, I can never taste.

Your uncommon personal advantages, and your superior good sense, do not
so much strike me; these, possibly, in a few instances may be met with
in others; but that amiable goodness, that tender feminine softness,
that endearing sweetness of disposition, with all the charming offspring
of a warm feeling heart--these I never again expect to meet with, in
such a degree, in this world. All these charming qualities, heightened
by an education much beyond anything I have ever met in any woman I ever
dared to approach, have made an impression on my heart that I do not
think the world can ever efface. My imagination has fondly flattered
myself with a wish, I dare not say it ever reached a hope, that possibly
I might one day call you mine. I had formed the most delightful images,
and my fancy fondly brooded over them; but now I am wretched for the
loss of what I really had no right to expect. I must now think no more
of you as a mistress; still I presume to ask to be admitted as a friend.
As such I wish to be allowed to wait on you, and as I expect to remove
in a few days a little further off, and you, I suppose, will soon leave
this place, I wish to see or hear from you soon; and if an expression
should perhaps escape me, rather too warm for friendship, I hope you
will pardon it in, my dear Miss--, (pardon me the dear expression for
once) R. B.

* * * * *

VI.--TO HIS FATHER.

IRVINE, _December 27,_ 1781.