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 of this billet doux. After dinner. I saunered in company with Dr. Wagtail to that end of the town where my inamorato lived; and as he was a more register inquited of him into the name character and fortune, of every body who possessed a house in the streets through which we passed. When he mentioned the name of Sir John Sparkle he represented him as a man of an immense estate who mewed up his only child, a fine young lady from the conversation of mankind under the strict watch and inspection of an old governante, who was either so honest envious, or insatiable, that nobody had been as yet able to make her a friend or get access to her charge, and she had a fortune of twelve thousand pounds left her by an uncle, of which she could not be deprived. This piece of news exactly tallied with the last part of the letter I had been honoured with.

I disengaged myself from Wagtail, whose conversation grew insipid and went home. Next day another billet-doux was brought to me containing many expressions of tenderness, mingled with some affecting doubts about the tenderness of man, the inconstancy of youth, and the jealousy often attending the most sincere passion. I plained