_Myra_ to Mrs. _Holmes_.
_Boston._
IN one of my former letters I acquainted you that I suspected
my brother to be in love, and now Madam, I am enabled to tell you with
whom—the amiable _Harriot_.
_Harriot_ attended Mrs. _Francis_ in her journey to _Rhodeisland_, and
our young hero has, in her absence, been dreaming of his mistress; and,
in a letter to her has written a description of his visionary interview.
_Harriot_, with whom I maintain a constant correspondence, and who keeps
no secret from me, inclosed the verses in her last, when lo! the
handwriting of Master _Harrington_.
I WAS a little mortified that the young man had kept me in ignorance of
his amour all this time, and this morning determined upon a little
innocent revenge—“Tommy,” said I, as he entered the room, “here is a
piece of poetry, written by an acquaintance of mine—I want your judgment
on it”—“Poetry or rhyme,” answered he, advancing towards me, and casting
his eyes upon it—He took the letter and began to read—“Why do you blush,
young man?” said I, “_Harriot_ is a fine girl.”—
THIS produced an _éclaircissement_, and as the matter must remain
secret, for a certain weighty reason, I am to be the _confidante_.
I MUST acknowledge to you, Mrs. _Holmes_, there is a certain _je ne sais
quoi_ in my amiable friend, that has always interested her in my
favour—I have an affection for her which comes from the heart—an
affection which I do not pretend to account for—Her dependance upon Mrs.
_Francis_ hurts me—I do not think this lady is the gentle, complaisant
being, that she appears to be in company—To behold so fine a girl in so
disagreeable a situation, might at first attract my commiseration and
esteem, and a more intimate knowledge of her virtues might have ripened
them into love. Certain it is, however, that whom I admire as a friend,
I could love as a SISTER. In the feelings of the heart there can be no
dissimulation.
PLEASE to tell Mr. _Worthy_, he may continue to write, and that I will
condescend to read his letters.
Farewel!