You Must Be The Best Judge Of

She Would Have Liked To Know How He Felt As To A Meeting. Perhaps Indifferent, If Indifference Could Exist Under Such Circumstances. He Must Be Either Indifferent Or Unwilling. Has He Wished Ever To See Her Again, He Need Not Have Waited Till This Time; He Would Have Done What She Could Not But Believe That In His Place She Should Have Done Long Ago, When Events Had Been Early Giving Him The Indepencence Which Alone Had Been Wanting.

Her Pleasure In The Walk Must Arise From The Exercise And The Day, From The View Of The Last Smiles Of The Year Upon The Tawny Leaves And Withered Hedges, And From Repeating To Herself Some Few Of The Thousand Poetical Descriptions Extant Of Autumn-that Season Of Peculiar And Inexhaustible Influence On The Mind Of Taste And Tenderness-that Season Which Has Drawn From Every Poet Worthy Of Being Read Some Attempt At Description, Or Some Lines Of Feeling.

To Her Own Heart It Was A Delightful Affair, To Her Imagination It Was Even A Ridiculous One, But To Her Reason, Her Judgment, It Was Completely A Puzzle.

Books--oh! No. I Am Sure We Never Read The Same, Or Not With The Same Feelings." "i Am Sorry You Think So; But If That Be The Case, There Can At Least Be No Want Of Subject. We May Compare Our Different Opinions.

This Was A Lucky Recollection -- It Saved Her From Something Like Regret.