solved immediately to deny myself that gratification; and though I have a whole page before me, which I could easily fill out of the abundance of my heart, I am determined to break off without any further attempt to describe the zeal and respect with which I am,

Dearest Creature,

Your most faithful, affectionate, and humble Servant,

PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

P. S. I hope, madam, you will not be displeased with what you have read, as not being doleful enough to express the gloom of a broken heart. The fact is that I never despair, but in the last extremity; and persuade myself you have too much goodness to delight in human sacrifices. Let us, I entreat you, see whether it be not possible, to spend our lives together without ever giving each other one uneasy thought.

DEAR MADAM,

TO MISS MARIS.

October 9, 1730.

I WILL not ask your pardon for sending you so short a letter, as the longest I can now have time to write; because, to speak plainly and honestly, it was your own fault. I waked this morning at five o'clock, and you kept me in bed till seven; and that, joined with

some other accidents of the day, has thrown me into a hurry, which hardly leaves me time to complain of the lovely creature who caused it.

Think not, madam, to charge the fault upon my weakness! why did you look with so engaging an air when I saw you last? why did your conversation teem with sentiments which might have charmed from any lips, and disclose a treasure of greatness and goodness of mind, which no more needed to be recommended by wit, than wit, to be inflamed by beauty? Indeed, madam, I ought to chide you; and yet such is the frailty of human nature, that I cannot forbear thanking you. Common prudence might teach me to argue, that if the very idea of you thus enchants me, and robs me of some of the brightest hours of life, the possession of your very self must be dangerously transporting; and yet, if you will believe me, I long to prove the utmost effort of your charms ; though it may seem as absurd, as that a traveller, whose wearied eyes can hardly endure the rising sun, should wish for the dazzling blaze of noon.

I am almost tempted to leave my pupils and my flock, and even my sick friends, to come to tell you a foolish story, which perhaps you have often despised when told to much greater advantage. The most unhappy circumstance of all is, that my fondness for you makes me shrink at the thought of every little disturbance you may meet with here, should you ever make my family your own, and this idea fills me with an uneasiness I have never yet known in the want of an estate. I can bear a thousand little

inconveniences myself; but, methinks, madam, that life for you should have no ruffling wave, but that your passage through it should be as serene as your temper, and as bright as your eyes. Nay, it should be so, were my wishes to determine it; but I freely own, I have my fears; yet I hope, with that goodness which has ever marked your conduct, you will impute them only to the exquisite tenderness and sincere respect, with which I am,

Dearest Madam,

Your most affectionate,

obliged, and humble Servant,

PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

P. S. See to what my letter is swelled. It is indeed an extraordinary letter; but excuse the faults both of the language and the writing, for had I loved you less, perhaps both had been more exact.

I pray for you every day, and hope that God will direct a heart in which I persuade myself he has the supreme seat: may he ever maintain it as his own!

Is it possible you should love me so well as to subject yourself to daily care, confinement, and fatigue, and to all the uncertainty which attends my affairs, to make me happy? Ask yourself that question seriously, for on this point the whole will turn. If you can get over this difficulty, prepare to fix a day for our marriage, for, in good earnest, I am strangely impatient. On the very mention of the word, my

heart glows with a warmth, which I would fain communicate to yours, but I must not indulge it too far. Passion is a blind guide, and I am glad you have a better.

Are you resolved never to write to me till you can subscribe yourself by my name? I shall indeed love it the better when it is yours. But how fast am I running on. Perhaps the next time you see me, you will give me an absolute refusal.

Yet why should I anticipate uncertain evil? perhaps you may be in my arms in less than a month! Oh that it were to be in less than an hour!

Past eleven o'clock, once more good night. You see the impertinence of a lover can be bounded only by the extent of his paper.

TO MISS MARIS.

October 16, 1730.

DEAREST CREATURE,

WHEN I wrote my last, I fully intended to wait upon you this week, and thought of it with a pleasure which no other visit could give me; but the death of a friend, whose funeral sermon I was obliged to preach, in one of those dear hours I had designed for you, laid an insurmountable obstacle in my way.

You have too much wisdom and goodness to charge this accident upon me as a fault, or to impute to me a want of that tenderness and respect for you, to the sincerity of which God is witness, and of which I

hope you, madam, will have indubitable evidence, I will not say, almost every day of your life, but of mine. I hope, however, to see you once next week, if possible! and words cannot express the impatience with which I expect this delightful interview. I am, in the mean time, looking exactly into the state of my affairs, that I may be able to give you a particular account of them; and you may depend upon my honour and integrity in concealing nothing which might afterwards give you an unexpected cause of complaint. I know you are not the slave to any such low interests, and I hope we have neither of us those foolish ungoverned fancies which would make trifles necessary to our happiness; but that having food and raiment, we shall be therewith content; and if so, why may we not be happy? If I am not quite out in my calculation, we may live moderately upon our income; and if we cannot lay up much, which indeed I believe we cannot, yet I hope we shall have a treasure in the Divine Love, and in the Friendship of those about us, whom it will, no doubt, if we are united, be our mutual study, as it will certainly be our interest, to oblige. I freely confess, I have sometimes my fears on some possible suppositions, but it would be criminal to indulge them. I have already been the charge of Providence in a remarkable manner, when I had not half the prospect I now have; and, as I hope my conscience can witness to a sincere desire of devoting my life and labours to the great Lord of all, I may surely trust Him to provide necessaries for his servant: and for you, my