LETTER 7.


To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Montreal, August 15.

By Heavens, Lucy, this is more than man can bear; I was mad to stay
so long at Melmoth's; there is no resisting this little seducer: 'tis
shameful in such a lovely woman to have understanding too; yet even
this I could forgive, had she not that enchanting softness in her
manner, which steals upon the soul, and would almost make ugliness
itself charm; were she but vain, one had some chance, but she will take
upon her to have no consciousness, at least no apparent consciousness,
of her perfections, which is really intolerable. I told her so last
night, when she put on such a malicious smile--I believe the little
tyrant wants to add me to the list of her slaves; but I was not form'd
to fill up a train. The woman I love must be so far from giving
another the preference, that she must have no soul but for me; I am one
of the most unreasonable men in the world on this head; she may fancy
what she pleases, but I set her and all her attractions at defiance: I
have made my escape, and shall set off for Quebec in an hour. Flying
is, I must acknowledge, a little out of character, and unbecoming a
soldier; but in these cases, it is the very best thing man or woman
either can do, when they doubt their powers of resistance.

I intend to be ten days going to Quebec. I propose visiting the