To Agnes McLehose (Clarinda)
Friday, Nine o’clock Night. [14th March 1788]
I am just now come in, and have read your letter. The first thing I
did, was to thank the Divine Disposer of events, that he has had such
happiness in store for me as the connexion I have with you. Life, my
Clarinda, is a weary, barren path; and woe be to him or her that
ventures on it alone! For me, I have my dearest partner of my soul:
Clarinth and I will make out our pilgrimage together. Wherever I am,
I shall constantly let her know how I go on, what I observe in the
world around me, and what adventures I meet with. Will it please
you, my love, to get, every week, or, at least, every fortnight, a
packet, ~two or three sheets, full of remarks, nonsense, news, rhymes,
and old songs?
Will you open, with satisfaction and delight, a letter from a man who
loves you, who has loved you, and who will love you to death,
through death, and for ever? Oh Clarinda! what do I owe to Heaven
for blessing me with such a piece of exalted excellence as you! I call
over your idea, as a miser counts over his treasure! Tell me, were you
studious to please me last night? I am sure you did it to transport.
How rich am I who have such a treasure as you! You know me; you
know how to make me happy, and you do it most effectually. God bless you with
“Long life, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend!”
Tomorrow night, according to your own direction, I shall watch the
window: ‘tis the star that guides me to paradise. The great relish to
all is, that Honour, that Innocence, that Religion, are the witnesses
and guarantees of our happiness. “The Lord God knoweth,” and,
perhaps, “Israel he shall know,”2 my love and your merit. Adieu,
Clarinda! lam going to remember you in my prayers.
Sylvander
|
