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Saturday, 12 July, 1828

The morning comes in all her beauty, placid, clear, warm, and serene. Spent the day in my room, reading. Thoughts have touched on a delicate subject and the most proper and appropriate method of introducing it so that even the individual to whom it may be addressed will not suspect the extent of my motives.And have finished the subject mentioned on the tenth of June. Fickleness. This is instability and irresolution of the will, and it is a sad misfortune that so many are affected with it, and from this number the writer claims no exemption. This arises from a deficiency of a well-regulated discipline of the willin infant life, most generally. The will requires a regular exercise and as thorough a discipline as any faculty of the body whatever. How long it requires an individual to accustom his fingers to the motion of writing. It is a lengthy and tedious undertaking and should be commenced in early life. So it is with the will We must use it and force it to act right. And if it has not underwent a severe discipline, it will not adhere to tomorrow what it may declare today. The will was designed, no doubt, by nature to be the governing power and to exercise absolute control over every other faculty. Desire must and ought to be subject to it. But where we see individuals grasping far beyond their ability in gratifying themselves, the desire in these cases controls the will, which in time will produce bad consequences. Now by not reflecting and allowing the will and desire to run in the same channel, we are changing both every minute, and as we advance in life this increases and, when we are incapable of gratifying desire, we become the most miserable creatures in existence and this is not the worst evil. It produces a mind on which there can be no reliance, determinations of the day are gone, vanished on the morrow. No confidence can securely be placed on such a mind, because the will itself, void of all firmness or resolution, is the sport of every transient incident, every interposing uneasiness or pleasure changes it. The friend of today becomes the implacable enemy of tomorrow. The pleasure of the moment is intense and the succeeding minute, painful and disgusting. Desire being always instigated by the feelings of the moment, it sacrifices the future to the present enjoyment. It too often purchases a fleeting gratification of subordinate value, at the expense of permanent and substantial happiness. You, for whom I burn the midnight lamp in writing these few and imperfect sheets, must not imagine that I now anticipate you as those who may have no firmness. I hope the reverse. I hope the resolution and constancy will ever fill your minds and that you will place your happiness on real substantial and abandon these fleeting gratifications, because you will find them and in pain. I will recite a case, that you may the better comprehend my meaning, and it the same in all cases of whatever nature they may be. We will take a case of frequent occurrence. Behold the youthful maiden whose affection from the pure fountain of fidelity whose intimate acquaintance has not long established her claim to friendship, but in that short time a strong and undying attachment had been formed, and desire wishes to perpetuate this connection through life, and the idea of its not being so is fatal to peace. You may now see them in all the loveliness that can deck human nature. But now the will may overrule desire. Unexpected misfortune occurs and a voice declares that these confiding confidents must part, having just prepared to enter a more extended field of happiness. The moment comes, the mandate must be obeyed, they embrace each other overwhelmed with grief that forbids utterance. A distant period is placed when whese two shall meet, if the unrelenting hand of death does not prevent. Solemn declarations are made, eternal constancy is vowed, and strict fidelity binds the whole. Time nor distance is declared to be inefectual to even diminish this respect, so pure and firm; the fervent lips bid farewell. Oh, the anguish which wrings the agonized heart, pencil and pen are inadequate to describe. Time now fast separates and the imagination paints all the dangers to be encountered and the probability of escape; and oh, if death should touch the lovely form. Earth's charms are gone forever.