sentiments; I hate even to speak of love to one of my own sex.

Adieu! I am going a party with half a dozen ladies, and have not
another minute to spare.

Yours,
Ed. Rivers.



LETTER 58.


To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Jan. 28.

I every hour, my dear, grow more in love with French manners; there
is something charming in being young and sprightly all one's life: it
would appear absurd in England to hear, what I have just heard, a fat
virtuous lady of seventy toast _Love and Opportunity_ to a young
fellow; but 'tis nothing here: they dance too to the last gasp; I have
seen the daughter, mother, and grand-daughter, in the same French
country dance.

They are perfectly right; and I honor them for their good sense and
spirit, in determining to make life agreable as long as they can.

_A propos_ to age, I am resolved to go home, Lucy; I have found
three grey hairs this morning; they tell me 'tis common; this vile