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LETTERS.
constituted, I cannot live without some particular affection—I am afraid not without a passion—and I feel the want of it more in society, than in solitude—
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Writing to you, whenever an affectionate epithet occurs—my eyes fill with tears, and my trembling hand stops—you may then depend on my resolution, when with you. If I am doomed to be unhappy, I will confine my anguish in my own bosom—tenderness, rather than passion, has made me sometimes overlook delicacy—the same tenderness will in future restrain me. God bless you!
LETTER
