This, I suppose, will find you trying the force of your destructive
charms on the savage dames of America; chasing females wild as the
winds thro' woods as wild as themselves: I see you pursuing the stately
relict of some renown'd Indian chief, some plump squaw arriv'd at the
age of sentiment, some warlike queen dowager of the Ottawas or
Tuscaroras.

And pray, _comment trouvez vous les dames sauvages?_ all pure
and genuine nature, I suppose; none of the affected coyness of Europe:
your attention there will be the more obliging, as the Indian heroes, I
am told, are not very attentive to the charms of the _beau sexe_.

You are very sentimental on the subject of friendship; no one has
more exalted notions of this species of affection than myself, yet I
deny that it gives life to the moral world; a gallant man, like you,
might have found a more animating principle:

_O Venus! O Mere de l'Amour!_

I am most gloriously indolent this morning, and would not write
another line if the empire of the world (observe I do not mean the
female world) depended on it.

Adieu!
J. Temple.



LETTER 4.