CHAPTER XIII--THE MAN OF FEELING IN LOVE



The day before that on which he set out, he went to take leave of
Mr. Walton.--We would conceal nothing;--there was another person of
the family to whom also the visit was intended, on whose account,
perhaps, there were some tenderer feelings in the bosom of Harley
than his gratitude for the friendly notice of that gentleman (though
he was seldom deficient in that virtue) could inspire. Mr. Walton
had a daughter; and such a daughter! we will attempt some
description of her by and by.

Harley's notions of the ?a???, or beautiful, were not always to be
defined, nor indeed such as the world would always assent to, though
we could define them. A blush, a phrase of affability to an
inferior, a tear at a moving tale, were to him, like the Cestus of
Cytherea, unequalled in conferring beauty. For all these Miss
Walton was remarkable; but as these, like the above-mentioned
Cestus, are perhaps still more powerful when the wearer is possessed
of souse degree of beauty, commonly so called, it happened, that,
from this cause, they had more than usual power in the person of
that young lady.

She was now arrived at that period of life which takes, or is
supposed to take, from the flippancy of girlhood those
sprightlinesses with which some good-natured old maids oblige the
world at three-score. She had been ushered into life (as that word
is used in the dialect of St. James's) at seventeen, her father