A ship for England is in sight.  Madame Des Roches is so polite to send off this letter; we return to her house in the morning.

  Adieu! my Lucy. 
      Yours,
          Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 33.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, Oct. 12.

I have no patience with this foolish brother of yours; he is rambling about in the woods when we want him here:  we have a most agreeable assembly every Thursday at the General’s, and have had another ball since he has been gone on this ridiculous ramble; I miss the dear creature wherever I go.  We have nothing but balls, cards, and parties of pleasure; but they are nothing without my little Rivers.

I have been making the tour of the three religions this morning, and, as I am the most constant creature breathing; am come back only a thousand times more pleased with my own.  I have been at mass, at church, and at the presbyterian meeting:  an idea struck me at the last, in regard to the drapery of them all; that the Romish religion is like an over-dressed, tawdry, rich citizen’s wife; the presbyterian like a rude aukward country girl; the church of England like an elegant well-dressed woman of quality, “plain in her neatness” (to quote Horace, who is my favorite author).  There is a noble, graceful simplicity both in the worship and the ceremonies of the church of England, which, even if I were a stranger to her doctrines, would prejudice me strongly in her favor.

Sir George sets out for Montreal this evening, so do the house of Melmoth; I have however prevailed on Emily to stay a month or two longer with me.  I am rejoiced Sir George is going away; I am tired of seeing that eternal smile, that countenance of his, which attempts to speak, and says nothing.  I am in doubt whether I shall let Emily marry him; she will die in a week, of no distemper but his conversation.

They dine with us.  I am called down.  Adieu!

Eight at night.

Heaven be praised, our lover is gone; they parted with great philosophy on both sides:  they are the prettiest mild pair of inamoratoes one shall see.

Your brother’s servant has just called to tell me he is going to his master.  I have a great mind to answer his letter, and order him back.

LETTER 34.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Oct. 12.

I have been looking at the estate Madame Des Roches has to sell; it is as wild as the lands to which I have a right; I hoped this would have amused my chagrin, but am mistaken:  nothing interests me, nothing takes up my attention one moment:  my mind admits but one idea.  This charming woman follows me wherever I go; I wander about like the first man when driven out of paradise:  I vainly fancy every change of place will relieve the anxiety of my mind.

Madame Des Roches smiles, and tells me I am in love; ’tis however a smile of tenderness and compassion:  your sex have great penetration in whatever regards the heart.