I WAS sensibly relieved as I pronounced these words, and I felt my heart glow with feelings of exquisite delight, as I anticipated the happy time when the sighs of the slave shall no longer expire in the air of freedom. What delightful sensations are those in which the heart is interested! In which it stoops to enter into the little concerns of the most remote ramification of Nature! Let the vain, the giddy, and the proud pass on without deigning to notice them—let them cheat themselves of happiness—these are circumstances which are important only to a sentimental traveller. HAIL _sensibility_! Sweetener of the joys of life! Heaven has implanted thee in the breasts of his children—to soothe the sorrows of the afflicted—to mitigate the wounds of the stranger who falleth in our way. _Thou_ regardest with an eye of pity, those whom _wealth_ and _ambition_ treat in terms of reproach. Away, ye seekers of power—ye boasters of wealth—ye are the _Levite_ and the _Pharisee_, who restrain the hand of charity from the indigent, and turn with indignation from the way-worn son of misery:—But _Sensibility_ is the good _Samaritan_, who taketh him by the hand, and consoleth him, and poureth wine and oil into his wounds. Thou art a pleasant companion—a grateful friend—and a _neighbour_ to those who are destitute of shelter.— FROM thee! Author of Nature! from thee, thou inexhaustible spring of love supreme, floweth this tide of affection and _sympathy_—thou whose tender care extendeth to the least of thy creatures—and whose eye is not inattentive even though a sparrow fall to the ground. LETTER XXXVII. Mrs. _Holmes_ to _Myra_. _Belleview, 12 o’clock at night._ I CANNOT rest—this affair lies so heavy on my mind, that sleep flies from my eye-lids. Your brother _must_ discontinue his addresses to _Harriot_—with what should I not have to upbraid myself, if, through my remissness—your brother marries his sister! GREAT God! of what materials hast thou compounded the hearts of thy creatures! admire, O, my friend! the operation of NATURE—and the power of SYMPATHY! _Harriot_ IS YOUR SISTER! I dispatch the bearer at this late hour to confide in your bosom the important secret! Adieu! LETTER XXXVIII. _Myra_ to Mrs. _Holmes_. _Boston._ ACCEPT my warmest acknowledgment, my good friend, for your kindness.—Your letter sufficiently explains your former anxiety—it has removed all ambiguities. YOUR servant entered hastily with the letter—and gave it me with evident tokens of its containing a matter of importance.—My father was present—I broke it open, not without agitation—I read it—but the shock was too severe—it fell from my hands, and I sunk into the chair.