We have both strong affections: both love the conversation of women; and neither of our hearts are depraved by ill-chosen connexions with the sex.
I am broke in upon, and must bid you adieu!
Your affectionate
J. Fitzgerald.
Bell is writing to you. I shall be jealous.
LETTER CXCVIII.202.
To Colonel Rivers, Bellfield, Rutland.
London, Oct. 19.
I die to come to Bellfield again, my dear Rivers; I have a passion for your little wood; it is a mighty pretty wood for an English wood, but nothing to your Montmorencis; the dear little Silleri too—
But to return to the shades of Bellfield: your little wood is charming indeed; not to particularize detached pieces of your scenery, the tout ensemble is very inviting; observe, however, I have no notion of paradise without an Adam, and therefore shall bring Fitzgerald with me next time.
What could induce you, with this sweet little retreat, to cross that vile ocean to Canada? I am astonished at the madness of mankind, who can expose themselves to pain, misery, and danger; and range the world from motives of avarice and ambition, when the rural cot, the fanning gale, the clear stream, and flowery bank, offer such delicious enjoyments at home.