The affections are the true sources of enjoyment: love, friendship, and, if you will allow me to anticipate, paternal tenderness, all the domestic attachments, are sweet beyond words.
The beneficent Author of nature, who gave us these affections for the wisest purposes—
“Cela est bien dit, mon cher Rivers; mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.”
You are right, my dear Bell, and I am a prating coxcomb.
Lucy’s post-coach is just setting off, to wait your commands.
I send this by Temple’s servant. On Thursday I hope to see our dear groupe of friends re-united, and to have nothing to wish, but a continuance of our present happiness.
Adieu! Your faithful
Ed. Rivers.
THE END.