ceive a ſublime gloom of tender melancholy, that allows the mind for a moment to ſtand ſtill and enjoy the preſent ſatisfaction, when a conſciouſneſs of the Divine preſence is felt—for this muſt ever be the food of joy!
As I have always been fond of tracing to its ſource in nature any prevailing cuſtom, I have frequently thought that it was a ſentiment of affection for whatever had touched the perſon of an abſent or loſt friend, which gave birth to that reſpect for relicks, ſo much abuſed by ſelfiſh prieſts. Devotion, or love, may be allowed to hallow the garments as well as the perſon; for the lover muſt want fancy who has not a ſort of ſacred reſpect for the glove or ſlipper of his miſtreſs. He could not confound them with vulgar things of the ſame kind. This fine ſentiment, perhaps, would not bear to be analyzed by the experimental philoſopher—but of ſuch ſtuff is human rapture made up!—A ſhadowy phantom glides before us, obſcuring every other object; yet when the ſoft cloud is graſped, the form melts into common air, leaving a ſolitary void, or ſweet perfume, ſtolen from the violet, that memory long holds dear. But I have tripped unawares on fairy ground, feeling the balmy gale of ſpring ſtealing on me, though November frowns.
As a ſex, women are more chaſte than men, and as modeſty is the effect of chaſtity, they may deſerve to have this virtue aſcribed to them in rather an appropriated ſenſe; yet, I muſt be allowed to add an heſitating if:—for I doubt whether chaſtity will produce modeſty, though it may propriety of conduct, when it is merely a
