I wish he would go; I say spontaneously every time I see him,
without considering I am impolite, "La! Sir George, when do you go to
Montreal?" He reddens, and gives me a peevish answer; and I then, and
not before, recollect how very impertinent the question is.

But pray, my dear, because he has no taste for social companionable
life, has he therefore a right to damp the spirit of it in those that
have? I intend to consult some learned casuist on this head.

He takes amazing pains to please in his way, is curled, powdered,
perfumed, and exhibits every day in a new suit of embroidery; but with
all this, has the mortification to see your brother please more in a
plain coat. I am lazy. Adieu!

Yours, ever and ever,
A. Fermor.



LETTER 57.


To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Jan. 25.

So you intend, my dear Jack, to marry when you are quite tired of a
life of gallantry: the lady will be much obliged to you for a heart,
the refuse of half the prostitutes in town; a heart, the best feelings
of which will be entirely obliterated; a heart hardened by a long