England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Essays
“Excuse me my Sophia for having thus unwillingly offended you—” replied
I—and then changing the conversation, desired her to admire the noble
Grandeur of the Elms which sheltered us from the Eastern Zephyr. “Alas!
my Laura (returned she) avoid so melancholy a subject, I intreat you.
Do not again wound my Sensibility by observations on those elms. They
remind me of Augustus. He was like them, tall, magestic—he possessed
that noble grandeur which you admire in them.”
I was silent, fearfull lest I might any more unwillingly distress her
by fixing on any other subject of conversation which might again remind
her of Augustus.
“Why do you not speak my Laura? (said she after a short pause) “I
cannot support this silence you must not leave me to my own
reflections; they ever recur to Augustus.”
“What a beautifull sky! (said I) How charmingly is the azure varied by
those delicate streaks of white!”
“Oh! my Laura (replied she hastily withdrawing her Eyes from a
momentary glance at the sky) do not thus distress me by calling my
Attention to an object which so cruelly reminds me of my Augustus’s
blue sattin waistcoat striped in white! In pity to your unhappy freind
avoid a subject so distressing.” What could I do? The feelings of
Sophia were at that time so exquisite, and the tenderness she felt for
Augustus so poignant that I had not power to start any other topic,
justly fearing that it might in some unforseen manner again awaken all
her sensibility by directing her thoughts to her Husband. Yet to be
silent would be cruel; she had intreated me to talk.
From this Dilemma I was most fortunately releived by an accident truly
apropos; it was the lucky overturning of a Gentleman’s Phaeton, on the
road which ran murmuring behind us. It was a most fortunate accident as
it diverted the attention of Sophia from the melancholy reflections
which she had been before indulging. We instantly quitted our seats and
ran to the rescue of those who but a few moments before had been in so
elevated a situation as a fashionably high Phaeton, but who were now
laid low and sprawling in the Dust. “What an ample subject for
reflection on the uncertain Enjoyments of this World, would not that
Phaeton and the Life of Cardinal Wolsey afford a thinking Mind!” said I
to Sophia as we were hastening to the field of Action.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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