You are the only woman on earth to whom I can, without the appearance of insult, talk of my Rivers, because you are the only one I ever knew as happy as myself.

Fitzgerald, in the tenderness and delicacy of his mind, resembles strongly—­

I am interrupted:  adieu! for a moment.

It was my Rivers, he brought me a bouquet; I opened the door, supposing it was my mother; conscious of what I had been writing, I was confused at seeing him; he smiled, and guessing the reason of my embarrassment, “I must leave you, Emily; you are writing, and, by your blushes, I know you have been talking of your lover.”

I should have told you, he insists on never seeing the letters I write, and gives this reason for it, That he should be a great loser by seeing them, as it would restrain my pen when I talk of him.

I believe, I am very foolish in my tenderness; but you will forgive me.

Rivers yesterday was throwing flowers at me and Lucy, in play, as we were walking in the garden; I catched a wallflower, and, by an involuntary impulse, kissed it, and placed it in my bosom.

He observed me, and his look of pleasure and affection is impossible to be described.  What exquisite pleasure there is in these agreable follies!

He is the sweetest trifler in the world, my dear Bell:  but in what does he not excel all mankind!

As the season of autumnal flowers is almost over, he is sending for all those which blow early in the spring:  he prevents every wish his Emily can form.

Did you ever, my dear, see so fine an autumn as this? you will, perhaps, smile when I say, I never saw one so pleasing; such a season is more lovely than even the spring:  I want you down before this agreable weather is all over.

I am going to air with my mother; my Rivers attends us on horseback; you cannot think how amiable his attention is to both.

Adieu! my dear; my mother has sent to let me know she is ready.

      Your affectionate
          Emily Rivers.

LETTER 205.

To Captain Fitzgerald.

Bellfield, Oct. 24.

Some author has said, “The happiness of the next world, to the virtuous, will consist in enjoying the society of minds like their own.”

Why then should we not do our best to possess as much as possible of this happiness here?

You will see this is a preface to a very earnest request to see Captain Fitzgerald and the lovely Bell immediately at our farm:  take notice, I will not admit even business as an excuse much longer.

I am just come from a walk in the wood behind the house, with my mother and Emily; I want you to see it before it loses all its charms; in another fortnight, its present variegated foliage will be literally humbled in the dust.

There is something very pleasing in this season, if it did not give us the idea of the winter, which is approaching too fast.