That recollection has but two cures--Time and the hermitage.

Foreigners impute to us the turn for sentiment; alas! there are no people who have it less.

We seek for ever after amusement; and there is not one popular prose-book in our language in which the more tender and yearning secrets of the heart form the subject-matter.

The Corinne and the Julie weary us, or we turn them into sorry jests! One evening, a little before his departure from England--that a lingering and vague hope, of which Constance was the object, had considerably protracted beyond the allotted time--Godolphin was at a house in which the hostess was a relation to Lord Erpingham.
"Have you heard," asked Lady G----, "that my cousin Erpingham is to be married ?" "No, indeed; to whom ?" said Godolphin, eagerly.

"To Miss Vernon." Sudden as was the shock, Godolphin heard, and changed neither hue nor muscle.
"Are you certain of this ?" asked a lady present.
"Quite: Lady Erpingham is my authority; I received the news from herself this very day." "And does she seem pleased with the match ?" "Why, I can scarcely say, for the letter contradicts itself in every passage.