a long
commerce with the most unworthy of the sex; and which will bring
disgust, suspicion, coldness, and depravity of taste, to the bosom of
sensibility and innocence.

For my own part, though fond of women to the greatest degree, I have
had, considering my profession and complexion, very few intrigues. I
have always had an idea I should some time or other marry, and have
been unwilling to bring to a state in which I hoped for happiness from
mutual affection, a heart worn out by a course of gallantries: to a
contrary conduct is owing most of our unhappy marriages; the woman
brings with her all her stock of tenderness, truth, and affection; the
man's is exhausted before they meet: she finds the generous delicate
tenderness of her soul, not only unreturned, but unobserved; she
fancies some other woman the object of his affection, she is unhappy,
she pines in secret; he observes her discontent, accuses her of
caprice; and her portion is wretchedness for life.

If I did not ardently wish your happiness, I should not thus
repeatedly combat a prejudice, which, as you have sensibility, will
infallibly make the greater part of your life a scene of insipidity
and regret.

You are right, Jack, as to the savages; the only way to civilize
them is to _feminize_ their women; but the task is rather
difficult: at present their manners differ in nothing from those of the
men; they even add to the ferocity of the latter.

You desire to know the state of my heart: excuse me, Jack; you know
nothing of love; and we who do, never disclose its mysteries to the
prophane: besides, I always chuse a female for the confidante of my
sentiments; I hate even to speak of love to one of my own sex.

Adieu! I am going a party with half a dozen ladies, and have not
another minute to spare.

Yours,
Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 58.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Jan. 28.

I every hour, my dear, grow more in love with French manners; there
is something charming in being young and sprightly all one's life: it
would appear absurd in England to hear, what I have just heard, a fat
virtuous lady of seventy toast _Love and Opportunity_ to a young
fellow; but 'tis nothing here: they dance too to the last gasp; I have
seen the daughter, mother, and grand-daughter, in the same French
country dance.

They are perfectly right; and I honor them for their good sense and
spirit, in determining to make life agreable as long as they can.