As I soon found, by the looks and expressions of this young lady that she was of a peculiar cast, I left all choice of subjects to herself, determined quietly to follow as she led ; and very soon, and I am sure I know not how, we had for topics the follies and vices of mankind, and, indeed, she spared not for lashing them.  The women she rather excused than defended, laying to the door of the men their faults and imperfections; but the men, she said, were all bad—­all, in one word, and without exception, sensualists.

I stared much at a severity of speech for which her softness of manner had so ill prepared me ; and she, perceiving my surprise, said,

“I am sure I ought to apologise for speaking my opinion to you--you, who have so just and so uncommon a knowledge of human nature.  I have long wished ardently to have the honour of conversing with you ; but your party has, altogether, been regarded as so formidable, that I have not had courage to approach it.”

I made—­as what could I do else?—­disqualifying speeches, and she then led to discoursing of happiness and misery:  the latter she held to be the invariable lot of us all; and “one word,” she added, “we have in our language, and in all others, for which there is never any essential necessity, and that is pleasure!” And her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.

“How you amaze me!” cried I; “I have met with misanthropes before, but never with so complete a one; and I can hardly think I hear right when I see how young you are!” \ She then, in rather indirect terms, gave me to understand that she was miserable at home, and in very direct terms, that she was wretched abroad; and openly said, that to affliction 182

she was born, and in affliction she must die, for that the world was so vilely formed as to render happiness impossible for its inhabitants.

There was something in this freedom of repining that I could by no means approve, and, as I found by all her manner that she had a disposition to even respect whatever I said, I now grew very serious, and frankly told her that I could not think it consistent with either truth or religion to cherish such notions.

“One thing,” answered she, “there is, which I believe might make me happy, but for that I have no inclination:  it is an amorous disposition; but that I do not possess.  I can make myself no happiness by intrigue.”

“I hope not, indeed!” cried I, almost confounded by her extraordinary notions and speeches; “but, surely, there are worthier objects of happiness attainable!”

“No, I believe there are not, and the reason the men are happier than us, is because they are more sensual!”

“I would not think such thoughts,” cried I, clasping my hands with an involuntary vehemence, “for worlds!”

The Misses C—­ then interrupted us, and seated themselves next to us; but Miss W—­ paid them little attention at first, and soon after none at all; but, in a low voice, continued her discourse with me, recurring to the same subject of happiness and misery, upon which, after again asserting the folly of ever hoping for the former, she made this speech,