“I was, madam; but there my philosophy was erroneous: in my ardour to fly from meanness and from dependence, I thought in labour and retirement I should find freedom and happiness; but I forgot that my body was not seasoned for such work, and considered not that a mind which had once been opened by knowledge, could ill endure the contraction of dark and perpetual ignorance. The approach, however, of winter, brought me acquainted with my mistake. It grew cold, it grew bleak; little guarded against the inclemency of the ----, I felt its severity in every limb, and missed a thousand indulgencies which in possession I had never valued. To rise at break of day, chill, freezing, and comfortless! no sun abroad, no fire at home! to go out in all weather to work, that work rough, coarse, and laborious!--unused to such hardships, I found I could not bear them, and, however unwillingly, was compelled to relinquish the attempt.” Breakfast now being over, he again arose to take leave. “You are going, then, Sir,” said Cecilia, “immediately to your friends?” “No, madam,” answered he hesitating, “not just this moment; to-morrow morning perhaps,--but it is now late, and I have business for the rest of the day.” “Ah, Mr Monckton!” cried Cecilia, “what mischief have you done by occasioning this delay!” “This goodness, madam,” said Belfield, “my sister can never sufficiently acknowledge. But I will own, that though, just now, in a warm moment, I felt eager to present myself to her and my mother, I rather wish, now I am cooler, to be saved the pain of telling them in person my situation. I mean, therefore, first to write to them.” “You will not fail, then, to see them to-morrow?” “Certainly--I think not.” “Nay, but certainly you _must_ not, for I shall call upon them to-day, and assure them they may expect you. Can I soften your task of writing by giving them any message from you?” “Ah, madam, have a care!” cried he; “this condescension to a poor author may be more dangerous than you have any suspicion! and before you have power to help yourself, you may see your name prefixed to the Dedication of some trumpery pamphlet!” “I will run,” cried she, “all risks; remember, therefore, you will be responsible for the performance of my promise.” “I will be sure,” answered he, “not to forget what reflects so much honour upon myself.” Cecilia was satisfied by this assent, and he then went away. “A strange flighty character!” cried Mr Monckton, “yet of uncommon capacity, and full of genius. Were he less imaginative, wild and eccentric, he has abilities for any station, and might fix and distinguish himself almost where-ever he pleased.” “I knew not,” said Cecilia, “the full worth of steadiness and prudence till I knew this young man; for he has every thing else; talents the most striking, a love of virtue the most elevated, and manners the most pleasing; yet wanting steadiness and prudence, he can neither act with consistency nor prosper with continuance.”