SENSIBILITY.
"Still in tears!" said Margarette Claremont, as she entered the parlor after a walk. "Which is it now, my dear Alice, Werther or Madam de Stael's Corinna?"
"Neither," answered Alice. Margarette looked over her shoulder, and saw that the book her cousin held was a volume of Kotzebue's plays, and that "Self-Immolation" was the one that engrossed her attention.
"How prodigal you are of your tears, dear cousin!" said Margarette,—"and how you waste your sensibilities on these high-wrought, and ultra-sentimental fictions! Will not your health be impaired, and your mind enervated by such excess of indulgence?"
"I fear no such results," said Alice,—"and should blush at the obduracy of my heart, should it fail of being moved when reading works in which such deep feeling is portrayed."
"Weep as much for legitimate sorrow as you will, Alice—even when portrayed in fictitious narrative, but do not expend your sympathies on scenes such as never did, and never will occur in the world." Alice made no reply, as Margarette turned and ran up stairs, but the thought of her heart was—"I am thankful I am not a stoic! thankful that my feelings are not congealed."
Alice Lansdale and Margarette Claremont were both orphan nieces of the wealthy bachelor Mr. Claremont, with whom they resided. The former was the daughter of his only sister. Her parents died when she was quite young, and consigned her, destitute of property, to the care of her uncle, with whom she had now resided several years. Margarette was the daughter of his only brother. She had been an orphan but few months, during which period she had been domesticated in the family of Mr. Claremont, to whom had been committed the guardianship of herself, and her ample fortune.