If you call these observations romantic, a phrase in this place which would be tantamount to nonsensical, I shall be apt to retort, that you are embruted by trade, and the vulgar enjoyments of life--Bring me then back your barrier-face, or you shall have nothing to say to my barrier-girl; and I shall fly from you, to cherish the remembrances that will ever be dear to me; for I am yours truly,

MARY.

LETTER XXIV

_[Paris] Evening, Sept. 23, [1794]._

I have been playing and laughing with the little girl so long, that I cannot take up my pen to address you without emotion. Pressing her to my bosom, she looked so like you (_entre nous_, your best looks, for I do not admire your commercial face) every nerve seemed to vibrate to the touch, and I began to think that there was something in the a.s.sertion of man and wife being one--for you seemed to pervade my whole frame, quickening the beat of my heart, and lending me the sympathetic tears you excited.

Have I any thing more to say to you? No; not for the present--the rest is all flown away; and, indulging tenderness for you, I cannot now complain of some people here, who have ruffled my temper for two or three days past.

_[Paris, 1794] Morning._

Yesterday B---- sent to me for my packet of letters. He called on me before; and I like him better than I did--that is, I have the same opinion of his understanding, but I think with you, he has more tenderness and real delicacy of feeling with respect to women, than are commonly to be met with. His manner too of speaking of his little girl, about the age of mine, interested me. I gave him a letter for my sister, and requested him to see her.

I have been interrupted. Mr. ---- I suppose will write about business.

Public affairs I do not descant on, except to tell you that they write now with great freedom and truth; and this liberty of the press will overthrow the Jacobins, I plainly perceive.

I hope you take care of your health. I have got a habit of restlessness at night, which arises, I believe, from activity of mind; for, when I am alone, that is, not near one to whom I can open my heart, I sink into reveries and trains of thinking, which agitate and fatigue me.

This is my third letter; when am I to hear from you? I need not tell you, I suppose, that I am now writing with somebody in the room with me, and ---- is waiting to carry this to Mr. ----'s. I will then kiss the girl for you, and bid you adieu.

I desired you, in one of my other letters, to bring back to me your barrier-face--or that you should not be loved by my barrier-girl. I know that you will love her more and more, for she is a little affectionate, intelligent creature, with as much vivacity, I should think, as you could wish for.

I was going to tell you of two or three things which displease me here; but they are not of sufficient consequence to interrupt pleasing sensations. I have received a letter from Mr. ----. I want you to bring ---- with you. Madame S---- is by me, reading a German translation of your letters--she desires me to give her love to you, on account of what you say of the negroes.

Yours most affectionately, MARY.

LETTER XXV

_Paris, Sept. 28 [1794]._

I have written to you three or four letters; but different causes have prevented my sending them by the persons who promised to take or forward them. The inclosed is one I wrote to go by B----; yet, finding that he will not arrive, before I hope, and believe, you will have set out on your return, I inclose it to you, and shall give it in charge to ----, as Mr.

---- is detained, to whom I also gave a letter.

I cannot help being anxious to hear from you; but I shall not harra.s.s you with accounts of inquietudes, or of cares that arise from peculiar circ.u.mstances.--I have had so many little plagues here, that I have almost lamented that I left Havre. ----, who is at best a most helpless creature, is now, on account of her pregnancy, more trouble than use to me, so that I still continue to be almost a slave to the child.--She indeed rewards me, for she is a sweet little creature; for, setting aside a mother's fondness (which, by the bye, is growing on me, her little intelligent smiles sinking into my heart), she has an astonishing degree of sensibility and observation. The other day by B----'s child, a fine one, she looked like a little sprite.--She is all life and motion, and her eyes are not the eyes of a fool--I will swear.

I slept at St. Germain's, in the very room (if you have not forgot) in which you pressed me very tenderly to your heart.--I did not forget to fold my darling to mine, with sensations that are almost too sacred to be alluded to.

Adieu, my love! Take care of yourself, if you wish to be the protector of your child, and the comfort of her mother.

I have received, for you, letters from ----. I want to hear how that affair finishes, though I do not know whether I have most contempt for his folly or knavery.

Your own MARY.

LETTER XXVI

_[Paris] October 1 [1794]._

It is a heartless task to write letters, without knowing whether they will ever reach you.--I have given two to ----, who has been a-going, a-going, every day, for a week past; and three others, which were written in a low-spirited strain, a little querulous or so, I have not been able to forward by the opportunities that were mentioned to me. _Tant mieux!_ you will say, and I will not say nay; for I should be sorry that the contents of a letter, when you are so far away, should damp the pleasure that the sight of it would afford--judging of your feelings by my own. I just now stumbled on one of the kind letters, which you wrote during your last absence. You are then a dear affectionate creature, and I will not plague you. The letter which you chance to receive, when the absence is so long, ought to bring only tears of tenderness, without any bitter alloy, into your eyes.

After your return I hope indeed, that you will not be so immersed in business, as during the last three or four months past--for even money, taking into the account all the future comforts it is to procure, may be gained at too dear a rate, if painful impressions are left on the mind.--These impressions were much more lively, soon after you went away, than at present--for a thousand tender recollections efface the melancholy traces they left on my mind--and every emotion is on the same side as my reason, which always was on yours.--Separated, it would be almost impious to dwell on real or imaginary imperfections of character.--I feel that I love you; and, if I cannot be happy with you, I will seek it no where else.

My little darling grows every day more dear to me--and she often has a kiss, when we are alone together, which I give her for you, with all my heart.

I have been interrupted--and must send off my letter. The liberty of the press will produce a great effect here--the _cry of blood will not be vain_!--Some more monsters will perish--and the Jacobins are conquered.--Yet I almost fear the last flap of the tail of the beast.

I have had several trifling teazing inconveniences here, which I shall not now trouble you with a detail of.--I am sending ---- back; her pregnancy rendered her useless. The girl I have got has more vivacity, which is better for the child.

I long to hear from you.--Bring a copy of ---- and ---- with you.

---- is still here: he is a lost man.--He really loves his wife, and is anxious about his children; but his indiscriminate hospitality and social feelings have given him an inveterate habit of drinking, that destroys his health, as well as renders his person disgusting.--If his wife had more sense, or delicacy, she might restrain him: as it is, nothing will save him.

Yours most truly and affectionately MARY.

LETTER XXVII

_[Paris] October 26 [1794]._

My dear love, I began to wish so earnestly to hear from you, that the sight of your letters occasioned such pleasurable emotions, I was obliged to throw them aside till the little girl and I were alone together; and this said little girl, our darling, is become a most intelligent little creature, and as gay as a lark, and that in the morning too, which I do not find quite so convenient. I once told you, that the sensations before she was born, and when she is sucking, were pleasant; but they do not deserve to be compared to the emotions I feel, when she stops to smile upon me, or laughs outright on meeting me unexpectedly in the street, or after a short absence. She has now the advantage of having two good nurses, and I am at present able to discharge my duty to her, without being the slave of it.

I have therefore employed and amused myself since I got rid of ----, and am making a progress in the language amongst other things. I have also made some new acquaintance. I have almost _charmed_ a judge of the tribunal, R----, who, though I should not have thought it possible, has humanity, if not _beaucoup d'esprit_. But let me tell you, if you do not make haste back, I shall be half in love with the author of the _Ma.r.s.eillaise_, who is a handsome man, a little too broad-faced or so, and plays sweetly on the violin.

What do you say to this threat?--why, _entre nous_, I like to give way to a sprightly vein, when writing to you, that is, when I am pleased with you. "The devil," you know, is proverbially said to be "in a good humour, when he is pleased." Will you not then be a good boy, and come back quickly to play with your girls? but I shall not allow you to love the new-comer best.

My heart longs for your return, my love, and only looks for, and seeks happiness with you; yet do not imagine that I childishly wish you to come back, before you have arranged things in such a manner, that it will not be necessary for you to leave us soon again, or to make exertions which injure your const.i.tution.

Yours most truly and tenderly, MARY.

P.S. You would oblige me by delivering the inclosed to Mr. ----, and pray call for an answer.--It is for a person uncomfortably situated.