The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

4 JANE TALBOT,
of impatience, repining, agony, on occasions too that
are slight, trivial, or unavoidable,'tis surely culpable.
Methinks, my friend, I would not have had thee for a
witness of the bitterness, the tumult of my feelings,
during this day; ever since you left me. You cannot
conceive any thing more forlorn, more vacant, more anxious, than this weak heart has been and still is. I was
terrified at my own sensations, and, with my usual folly,
began to construe them into omens of evils; so inadequate, so disproportioned was my distress to the cause
that produced it.
Ah! my friend! a weak —very weak-creature is thy
Jane. From excess of love arises that weakness; that
must be its apology with thee, for, in thy mind, my
fondness, I know, needs an apology.
Shall I scold you a little? I have held in the rein a
long time, but my overflowing heart must have relief,
and I shall find a sort of comfort in chiding you. Let
me chide you, then, for coldness, for insensibility: but
no; I will not. Let me enjoy the rewards of self-denial
and forbearance, and seal up my accusing lips. Let me
forget the coldness of your last salute, your ill-concealed
effort to disengage yourself from my foolishly-fond arms.
You have got at your journey's end, I hope. Farewell.
J. TALBOT.
LETTER II.
To Henry CGolden.
Tuesday Morning, October 4.
I MUST write to you, you said, frequently-and copiously:
you did not mean, I suppose, that I should always be
scribbling, but I cannot help it. I can do nothing but
converse with you. When present, my prate is incessant; when absent, I can prate to you with as little
intermission; for the pen, used so carelessly and thoughtlessly as I use it, does but prate.
Besides, I have not forgotten my promise.'Tis true
the story you wished me to give you is more easily coma