A Lady took a great fancy to a young lion, or a bear, I forget which—­but a bear, or a tiger, I believe it was.  It was made her a present of when a whelp.  She fed it with her own hand:  she nursed up the wicked cub with great tenderness; and would play with it without fear or apprehension of danger:  and it was obedient to all her commands:  and its tameness, as she used to boast, increased with its growth; so that, like a lap-dog, it would follow her all over the house.  But mind what followed:  at last, some how, neglecting to satisfy its hungry maw, or having otherwise disobliged it on some occasion, it resumed its nature; and on a sudden fell upon her, and tore her in pieces.—­And who was most to blame, I pray?  The brute, or the lady?  The lady, surely!—­ For what she did was out of nature, out of character, at least:  what it did was in its own nature.

PAPER IV

How art thou now humbled in the dust, thou proud Clarissa Harlowe!  Thou that never steppedst out of thy father’s house but to be admired!  Who wert wont to turn thine eye, sparkling with healthful life, and self-assurance, to different objects at once as thou passedst, as if (for so thy penetrating sister used to say) to plume thyself upon the expected applauses of all that beheld thee!  Thou that usedst to go to rest satisfied with the adulations paid thee in the past day, and couldst put off every thing but thy vanity!—–­

PAPER V

Rejoice not now, my Bella, my Sister, my Friend; but pity the humbled creature, whose foolish heart you used to say you beheld through the thin veil of humility which covered it.

It must have been so!  My fall had not else been permitted—­

You penetrated my proud heart with the jealousy of an elder sister’s searching eye.

You knew me better than I knew myself.

Hence your upbraidings and your chidings, when I began to totter.

But forgive now those vain triumphs of my heart.

I thought, poor, proud wretch that I was, that what you said was owing to your envy.

I thought I could acquit my intention of any such vanity.

I was too secure in the knowledge I thought I had of my own heart.

My supposed advantages became a snare to me.

And what now is the end of all?—­

PAPER VI

What now is become of the prospects of a happy life, which once I thought opening before me?—­Who now shall assist in the solemn preparations?  Who now shall provide the nuptial ornaments, which soften and divert the apprehensions of the fearful virgin?  No court now to be paid to my smiles!  No encouraging compliments to inspire thee with hope of laying a mind not unworthy of thee under obligation!  No elevation now for conscious merit, and applauded purity, to look down from on a prostrate adorer, and an admiring world, and up to pleased and rejoicing parents and relations!