No More Learning

I verily believe, my dear E. , that the pure, genuine feelings of love
are as rare in the world as the pure genuine principles of virtue and
piety. This I hope will account for the uncommon style of all my
letters to you. By uncommon, I mean their being written in such a
serious manner, which, to tell you the truth, has made me often afraid
lest you should take me for some zealous bigot, who conversed with his
mistress as he would converse with his minister. I don't know how it
is, my dear, for though, except your company, there is nothing on
earth gives me much pleasure as writing to you, yet it never gives me
those giddy raptures so much talked of among lovers. I have often
thought that if a well-grounded affection be not really a part of
virtue, 'tis something extremely akin to it. Whenever the thought of
my E. warms my heart, every feeling of humanity, every principle of
generosity kindles in my breast. It extinguishes every dirty spark of
malice and envy which are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every
creature in the arms of universal benevolence, and equally participate
in the pleasures of the happy, and sympathize with the miseries of the
unfortunate. I assure you, my dear, I often look up to the Divine
Disposer of events with an eye of gratitude for the blessing which I
hope he intends to bestow on me in bestowing you. I sincerely wish
that he may bless my endeavors to make your life as comfortable and
happy as possible, both in sweetening the rougher parts of my natural
temper, and bettering the unkindly circumstances of my fortune. This,
my dear, is a passion, at least in my view, worthy of a man, and I
will add worthy of a Christian. The sordid earth-worm may profess love
to a woman's person, whilst in reality his affection is centred in her
pocket; and the slavish drudge may go a-wooing as he goes to the
horse-market to choose one who is stout and firm, and as we may say of
an old horse, one who will be a good drudge and draw kindly. I disdain
their dirty, puny ideas.
I would be heartily out of humour with myself
if I thought I were capable of having so poor a notion of the sex,
which were designed to crown the pleasures of society. Poor devils! I
don't envy them their happiness who have such notions. For my part, I
propose quite other pleasures with my dear partner.

R. B.

* * * * *




V.


TO MISS E.

_Lochlea_, 1783.

MY DEAR E. :

I do not remember, in the course of your acquaintance and mine, ever
to have heard your opinion on the ordinary way of falling in love,
amongst people of our station of life: I do not mean the persons who
proceed in the way of bargain, but those whose affection is really
placed on the person.

Though I be, as you know very well, but a very awkward lover myself,
yet as I have some opportunities of observing the conduct of others
who are much better skilled in the affair of courtship than I am, I
often think it is owing to lucky chance more than to good management,
that there are not more unhappy marriages than usually are.

It is natural for a young fellow to like the acquaintance of the
females, and customary for him to keep them company when occasion
serves: some one of them is more agreeable to him than the rest; there
is something, he knows not what, pleases him, he knows not how, in her
company. This I take to be what is called love with the greater part
of us; and I must own, dear E. , it is a hard game, such a one as you
have to play when you meet with such a lover. You cannot refuse but he
is sincere, and yet though you use him ever so favourably, perhaps in
a few months, or at farthest in a year or two, the same unaccountable
fancy may make him as distractedly fond of another, whilst you are
quite forgot.