twenty: 'tis the most sovereign receipt in the world. I think too, my
dear, you have maintained a sort of running fight with the little
deity: our hour is not yet come. Adieu!

Yours,
A. Fermor.



LETTER 38.


To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, Oct. 15, evening.

I am returned, my dear, and have had the pleasure of hearing you and
my mother are well, though I have had no letters from either of you.

Mr. Temple, my dearest Lucy, tells me he has visited you. Will you
pardon me a freedom which nothing but the most tender friendship can
warrant, when I tell you that I would wish you to be as little
acquainted with him as politeness allows? He is a most agreable man,
perhaps too agreable, with a thousand amiable qualities; he is the man
I love above all others; and, where women are not concerned, a man of
the most unblemished honor: but his manner of life is extremely
libertine, and his ideas of women unworthy the rest of his character;
he knows not the perfections which adorn the valuable part of your
sex, he is a stranger to your virtues, and incapable, at least I fear
so, of that tender affection which alone can make an amiable woman