no soul but for me; I am one of the most unreasonable men in the world on this head; she may fancy what she pleases, but I set her and all her attractions at defiance:  I have made my escape, and shall set off for Quebec in an hour.  Flying is, I must acknowledge, a little out of character, and unbecoming a soldier; but in these cases, it is the very best thing man or woman either can do, when they doubt their powers of resistance.

I intend to be ten days going to Quebec.  I propose visiting the priests at every village, and endeavouring to get some knowledge of the nature of the country, in order to my intended settlement.  Idleness being the root of all evil, and the nurse of love, I am determin’d to keep myself employed; nothing can be better suited to my temper than my present design; the pleasure of cultivating lands here is as much superior to what can be found in the same employment in England, as watching the expanding rose, and beholding the falling leaves:  America is in infancy, Europe in old age.  Nor am I very ill qualified for this agreable task:  I have studied the Georgicks, and am a pretty enough kind of a husbandman as far as theory goes; nay, I am not sure I shall not be, even in practice, the best gentleman farmer in the province.

You may expect soon to hear of me in the Museum Rusticum; I intend to make amazing discoveries in the rural way:  I have already found out, by the force of my own genius, two very uncommon circumstances; that in Canada, contrary to what we see every where else, the country is rich, the capital poor; the hills fruitful, the vallies barren.  You see what excellent dispositions I have to be an useful member of society:  I had always a strong biass to the study of natural philosophy.

Tell my mother how well I am employ’d, and she cannot but approve my voyage:  assure her, my dear, of my tenderest regard.

The chaise is at the door.

      Adieu! 
          Ed. Rivers.

The lover is every hour expected; I am not quite sure I should have lik’d to see him arrive:  a third person, you know, on such an occasion, sinks into nothing; and I love, wherever I am, to be one of the figures which strike the eye; I hate to appear on the back ground of the picture.

LETTER 8.

To Miss Rivers.

Quebec, Aug. 24.

You can’t think, my dear, what a fund of useful knowledge I have treasur’d up during my journey from Montreal.  This colony is a rich mine yet unopen’d; I do not mean of gold and silver, but of what are of much more real value, corn and cattle.  Nothing is wanting but encouragement and cultivation; the Canadians are at their ease even without labor; nature is here a bounteous mother, who pours forth her gifts almost unsolicited:  bigotry, stupidity, and laziness, united, have not been able to keep the peasantry poor.  I rejoice to find such admirable capabilities where I propose to fix my dominion.