even, as it were, slips from your embraces, whilst the satisfied
senses seem to rest in enjoyment.

You will ask, perhaps, why I wished to go farther northward. Why?
not only because the country, from all I can gather, is most
romantic, abounding in forests and lakes, and the air pure, but I
have heard much of the intelligence of the inhabitants, substantial
farmers, who have none of that cunning to contaminate their
simplicity, which displeased me so much in the conduct of the people
on the sea coast. A man who has been detected in any dishonest act
can no longer live among them. He is universally shunned, and shame
becomes the severest punishment.

Such a contempt have they, in fact, for every species of fraud, that
they will not allow the people on the western coast to be their
countrymen; so much do they despise the arts for which those traders
who live on the rocks are notorious.

The description I received of them carried me back to the fables of
the golden age: independence and virtue; affluence without vice;
cultivation of mind, without depravity of heart; with "ever smiling
Liberty;" the nymph of the mountain. I want faith!

My imagination hurries me forward to seek an asylum in such a
retreat from all the disappointments I am threatened with; but
reason drags me back, whispering that the world is still the world,
and man the same compound of weakness and folly, who must
occasionally excite love and disgust, admiration and contempt. But
this description, though it seems to have been sketched by a fairy
pencil, was given me by a man of sound understanding, whose fancy