My Emily is every day more lovely; I see her often, and every hour
discover new charms in her; she has an exalted understanding, improved
by all the knowledge which is becoming in your sex; a soul awake to all
the finer sensations of the heart, checked and adorned by the native
gentleness of woman: she is extremely handsome, but she would please
every feeling heart if she was not; she has the soul of beauty: without
feminine softness and delicate sensibility, no features can give
loveliness; with them, very indifferent ones can charm: that
sensibility, that softness, never were so lovely as in my Emily. I can
write on no other subject. Were you to see her, my Lucy, you would
forgive me. My letter is called for. Adieu!

Yours,
Ed. Rivers.

Your friend Miss Fermor will write you every thing.



LETTER 43.


To Miss Montague, at Silleri.

Montreal, Nov. 14.

Mr. Melmoth and I, my dear Emily, expected by this time to have seen
you at Montreal. I allow something to your friendship for Miss Fermor;
but there is also something due to relations who tenderly love you, and
under whose protection your uncle left you at his death.