“THE picture you have exhibited of a ruined female is undoubtedly just, but that the _rude spoiler_ has his share of remorse is equally so—The conclusion of your letter is a real picture of the situation of my heart. “PERHAPS you were always ignorant of the real motives that influenced me, and gave a particular bias to my conduct.—At an early period of my life, I adopted a maxim, that _the most necessary learning was a knowledge of the world_, the pursuit of which, quadrating with a volatility of disposition, presented a variety of scenes to my heated imagination. The _éclat_ of my companions gratifying my vanity and increasing the gale of passion, I became insensibly hurried down the stream of dissipation. Here I saw mankind in every point of view—from the acme of the most consummate refinement, to the most abject stage of degradation. I soon became a ready proficient in the great school of the world—but an alteration of conduct was soon after necessary—I was compelled to it, not so much from the world’s abhorrence of a dissolute course of life, as the dictates of my own heart.—It was, indeed, my policy to flatter the world, and exhibit a fair outside—for I was in love with _Amelia_—My licentious amour with _Maria_ was secret—she was affectionate and tender—her manners were pleasing, but still I was unhappy.— “MY CAREER of dissipation, however alluring it struck my vitiated fancy, left little satisfaction on the mind—Reflection had its turn—and the happiness I had promised myself in connexion with the amiable _Amelia_, I fully enjoyed in our marriage. A course of uninterrupted tranquillity ensued, but it was of short duration. The volatility of my temper, and the solicitude of my old associates, induced me at subsequent periods to fall into my old vagaries. The taverns frequently found me engaged in meannesses derogatory to the character of a gentleman. These things I perceived affected the soul of _Amelia_—she was all meekness, gentleness and compassion, and she never once upbraided me with my illiberal conduct; But let concealment, like a worm in bud, Feed on her damask cheek. “BLESSED be that Power who has implanted within us that consciousness of reproach, which springs from gentleness and love!—Hail sensibility! Ye eloquent _tears_ of _beauty_! that add dignity to human nature by correcting its foibles—it was _these_ that corrected my faults when recrimination would have failed of success—it was _these_ that opened every avenue of contrition in my heart, when _words_ would have damned up every sluice of repentance.