All True Histories Contain Instruction; Though, In

You May Think It All Very Fine, Mr. Huntingdon, To Amuse Yourself With Rousing My Jealousy; But Take Care You Don't Rouse My Hate Instead. And When You Have Once Extinguished My Love, You Will Find It No Easy Matter To Kindle It Again.

I May Be Permitted, Like The Doctors, To Cure A Greater Evil By A Less, For I Shall Not Fall Seriously In Love With The Young Widow, I Think, Nor She With Me - That's Certain - But If I Find A Little Pleasure In Her Society I May Surely Be Allowed To Seek It; And If The Star Of Her Divinity Be Bright Enough To Dim The Lustre Of Eliza's, So Much The Better, But I Scarcely Can Think It

But As The Priceless Treasure Too Frequently Hides At The Bottom Of Well, It Needs Some Courage To Dive For It, Especially As He That Does So Will Be Likely To Incur More Scorn And Obloquy For The Mud And Water Into Which He Has Ventured To Plunge, Than Thanks For The Jewel He Procures; As Like In Manner, She Who Undertakes The Cleansing Of A Careless Bachelor's Apartment Will Be Liable To More Abuse For The Dust She Raises Than Commendation For The Clearance She Effects.

To Represent A Bad Thing In Its Least Offensive Light Is, Doubtless, The Most Agreeable Course For A Writer Of Fiction To Pursue; But Is It The Most Honest, Or The Safest? Is It Better To Reveal The Snares And Pitfalls Of Like To The Young And Thoughtless Traveller, Or To Cover Them With Branches And Flowers? Oh, Reader! If There Were Less Of This Delicate Concealment Of Facts--this Whispering "peace, Peace," When There Is No Peace, There Would Be Less Of Sin And Misery To The Young Of Both Sexes Who Are Left To Wring Their Bitter Knowledge From Experience.

A Girl's Affections Should Never Be Won Unsought.