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profit by every acquisition ; “ among the evils of life,” says the gloomy Johnson, “ we have to number the mutability of friendship.” Conway, sensible that invitations were given and forgotten with little solicitude, visited Mr Hargrave without delay. —But, alas! what an alteration in his manner! he spoke without trepidation, and listened without curiosity ; lounged unceremoniously upon the sofa, and buttered his toast with fashionable freedom. The day is lost, said Maria.
It was the very idea which struck upon the mind of Conway. “If I am in love,” said he, “it is not with Maria. On my first visit her opinions were judicious, and in unison with my own; but now they are diametrically opposed to mine, and, what is passing strange, she is perpetually wrong—I invariably right: I will think of her no more.” So saying, he thought of her every step that separated him from the house ; thought of her as he entered his own door; thought of her as he undressed himself ; dreamed of her, and awoke in the morning, exclaiming, “I will think of her no more.”
He was then engaged at Lloyd’s. “The man who neglects his business in pursuit of pleasure,” said he, “grasps at the end before he has obtained the means, and is an idiot!”—With this golden aphorism at his lips, he turned his back upon the city, and hastened to Maria!
As he journeyed on, he suddenly rested his chin upon the palm of his hand ; and neglectful of the mockery of butchers’ boys, “ What am I doing?” said he aloud ; “if I marry her what will the world say? what will the city say? what will Miss Pinn, Miss Caustic, and Miss Wagtail say?”—Pray, who is Mrs Conway?—How admirable his picture of detraction!—The illegitimate daughter of my Lady Catamaran’s butler!”
Thus pleasure were the excursions of Conway's
