We went down this evening with the young ladies, to Mr. Dana’s. I passed several hours agreeably. I had an essay upon philosophic Love given me to read; a little allegorical tale, in the composition of which, fancy, rather than reason predominated. For, as Terence says

____ incerta haec si tu postules

Ratione certa facere, nihilo plus agas,

Quam si des operam, ut cum ratione insanias.1