ich behold your little Bell an
example. Adieu! be wiser, and believe me

Ever yours,
A. Fermor.

Will you go this morning to Montmorenci on the ice, and dine on the
island of Orleans? dare you trust yourself in a covered carriole with
the dear man? Don't answer this, because I am certain you can say
nothing on the subject, which will not be very foolish.

LETTER 77.

To Miss Fermor.

I am glad you do not see Colonel Rivers with my eyes; yet it seems
to me very strange; I am almost piqued at your giving another the
preference. I will say no more, it being, as you observe, impossible to
avoid being absurd on such a subject.

I will go to Montmorenci; and, to shew my courage, will venture in a
covered carriole with Colonel Rivers, though I should rather wish your
father for my cavalier at present.

Yours,
Emily Montague.

LETTER 78.

To Miss Montague.

You are right, my dear: 'tis more prudent to go with my father. I
love prudence; and will therefore send for Mademoiselle Clairaut to be
Rivers's belle.

Yours,
A. Fermor.

LETTER 79.

To Miss Fermor.

You are a provoking chit, and I will go with Rivers. Your father may
attend Madame Villiers, who you know will naturally take it ill if she
is not of our party. We can ask Mademoiselle Clairaut another time.

Adieu! Your
Emily Montague.

LETTER 80.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Silleri, Feb. 25.

Those who have heard no more of a Canadian winter than what regards
the intenseness of its cold, must suppose it a very joyless season:
'tis, I assure you, quite otherwise; there are indeed some days here of
the severity of which those who were never out of England can form no
conception; but those days seldom exceed a dozen in a whole winter,
nor do they come in succession; but at intermediate periods, as the
winds set in from the North-West; which, coming some hundred leagues,
from frozen lakes and rivers, over woods and mountains covered with
snow, would be insupportable, were it not for the furs with which the
country abounds, in such variety and plenty as to be within the reach
of all its inhabitants.

Thus defended, the British belles set the winter of Canada at
defiance; and the season of which you seem to entertain such terrible
ideas, is that of the utmost chearfulness and festivity.

But what particularly pleases me is, there is no place where women