35 



exclamations, and raptures, and refinements, read 

 in the same loud monotonous tone, and with- 

 out the slightest respect paid to stops, had the 

 oddest effect possible. " She did not look at me ; 

 I thought my heart would burst ; the coach drove 

 off ; she looked out of the window ; was that look 

 meant for me ? yes it was ; perhaps it might be ; do 

 not tell me that it was not meant for me. Oh, my 

 friend, my friend, am I not a fool, a madman?" 

 (This part is rather stupid, or so, you see, but no 

 matter for that ; where was I ? oh !) "I am now 

 sure, Charlotte loves me: I prest my hand on my 

 heart; I said < Klopstock;' yes, Charlotte loves me; 

 what ! does Charlotte love me ? oh, rapturous thought ! 

 my brain turns round: — Immortal powers! — how! 

 — what! — oh, my friend, my friend," &c. &c. &c. I 

 was surprised to find that (except Edward's Fairy 

 Tale) none of them were reading works that were 

 at all likely to amuse them (Smollett or Fielding, 

 for instance), or any which might interest them as 

 relating to their profession, such as voyages and 

 travels ; much less any which had the slightest 

 reference to the particular day. However, as most 

 of them were reading what they could not possibly 

 understand, they might mistake them for books of 

 devotion, for any thing they knew to the contrary ; 

 or, perhaps, they might have so much reverence for 

 all books in print, as to think that, provided they 

 did but read something, it was doing a good work, 

 and it did not much matter what. So one of Con- 



d 2 



