LETTER XLII.42.
To Miss Rivers.
Quebec, Nov. 14.
I shall not, my dear, have above one more opportunity of writing to you by the ships; after which we can only write by the packet once a month.
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 lovelinessgentleness 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.