There is, in general, nothing so insipid, so uninteresting, as a beauty; which those men experience to their cost, who chuse from vanity, not inclination.  I remember Sir Charles Herbert, a Captain in the same regiment with my father, who determined to marry Miss Raymond before he saw her, merely because he had been told she was a celebrated beauty, though she was never known to have inspired a real passion:  he saw her, not with his own eyes, but those of the public, took her charms on trust; and, till he was her husband, never found out she was not his taste; a secret, however, of some little importance to his happiness.

I have, however, known some beauties who had a right to please; that is, who had a mixture of that invisible charm, that nameless grace which by no means depends on beauty, and which strikes the heart in a moment; but my first aversion is your fine women:  don’t you think a fine woman a detestable creature, Lucy?  I do:  they are vastly well to fill public places; but as to the heart—­Heavens, my dear! yet there are men, I suppose, to be found, who have a taste for the great sublime in beauty.

Men are vastly foolish, my dear; very few of them have spirit to think for themselves; there are a thousand Sir Charles Herberts:  I have seen some of them weak enough to decline marrying the woman on earth most pleasing to themselves, because not thought handsome by the generality of their companions.

Women are above this folly, and therefore chuse much oftener from affection than men.  We are a thousand times wiser, Lucy, than these important beings, these mighty lords,

  “Who strut and fret their hour upon the stage;”

and, instead of playing the part in life which nature dictates to their reason and their hearts, act a borrowed one at the will of others.

I had rather even judge ill, than not judge for myself.

      Adieu! yours ever,
          A. Fermor.

LETTER 83.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, March 4.

After debating with myself some days, I am determined to pursue Emily; but, before I make a declaration, will go to see some ungranted lands at the back of Madame Des Roches’s estate; which, lying on a very fine river, and so near the St. Lawrence, may I think be cultivated at less expence than those above Lake Champlain, though in a much inferior climate:  if I make my settlement here, I will purchase the estate Madame Des Roches has to sell, which will open me a road to the river St. Lawrence, and consequently treble the value of my lands.

I love, I adore this charming woman; but I will not suffer my tenderness for her to make her unhappy, or to lower her station in life:  if I can, by my present plan, secure her what will in this country be a degree of affluence, I will endeavor to change her friendship for me into a tenderer and more lively affection; if she loves, I know by my own heart, that Canada will be no longer a place of exile; if I have flattered myself, and she has only a friendship for me, I will return immediately to England, and retire with you and my mother to our little estate in the country.