O, my children, if you could but learn to commune with your own hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you would little regard the elegance and splendours of the worthless.

Almost all men have been taught to call life a passage, and themselves the travellers.

The similitude still may be improved when we observe that the good are joyful and serene, like travellers that are going towards home; the wicked but by intervals happy, like travellers that are going into exile.' My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this new disaster, interrupted what I had farther to observe.

I bade her mother support her, and after a short time she recovered.

She appeared from that time more calm, and I imagined had gained a new degree of resolution; but appearances deceived me; for her tranquility was the langour of over-wrought resentment.