Douglas is not a misanthrope, but he has met with many disappointments, as all men must do who form their early acquaintances—friendships I will not call them—amongst the multitude who are only bound together by the casual ties of pleasure and convenience. The temporary purpose gained, or the transient gratification satisfied, no memory remains of favour conferred, no gratitude survives for benefits received. While youth continues we waste our resources, because they are liberally replenished, and in the abundance and variety of the springs from whence they flow, we cannot anticipate a season of dearth; but the cisterns, however bounteously supplied, will become dry at last, and even drops will, in the end, seem precious of that which we lavished before with thoughtless prodigality. Your brother, however, is too just to hate his fellow-creatures because he has neglected to render himself an object of their love; but, though he does not actually set his mind in array against them, he is too proud to acknowledge dependence, and his temper is not sufficiently under controul to prevent him from involuntarily revenging on society the insulation which he has imposed on himself, by avoiding rather than courting communion with the world, for an intercourse with the best and wisest of which he is peculiarly gifted. It would seem as if he had laid down a law for himself to be severe and repellent, which the natural kindness of his character renders impossible, and the most that he can achieve is an air of uncertainty bordering on caprice, which strangers ascribe to bad health. I suspect that during the halcyon days of youth, religion which, in India, has been cruelly neglected, made no part of his concern, but a mind of such height and depth as his can never continue careless on the subject of its immortal interests; and, if my observations be correct, he is at this moment suffering those transition pangs incident to the awakened conviction of having been wrong, and desiring to be right, which are rendered more than commonly poignant in his instance by that scrupulous conscientiousness which suggests the inquiry whether his motive in searching after truth may not partly arise from a belief that he feels "the silver cords" beginning to give way and threaten dissolution.
You will not think me tedious in thus endeavouring to give you a clue to the character of one who is formed in no ordinary mould, and for whom I anticipate all the happiness which he is capable of enjoying at Glenalta. You will have no difficulty to contend with, no plot to sustain. Oh! my dear Caroline, it is worth coming into a sophisticated scene like this, to behold, in all its loveliness, the beauty of a single heart. The moral like the physical circumstances which surround us daily, are not half appreciated, because that they want contrast. We are ungrateful and forget our blessings. I shall have much to tell you, which I do not like to write. Dear Arthur would furnish materials for another sheet, but I must not lengthen this letter, already so voluminous. Frederick's love, with mine, to the Trias Harmonica, and Mr. Oliphant. Adieu, dearest friend.
Yours ever and sincerely,
E. Otway.
END OF VOL. II.
PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS, 25, PARLIAMENT-STREET.
Transcriber's note
Spelling and punctuation have been preserved as printed in the original publication.