arth most pleasing to themselves, because not thought handsome by the
generality of their companions.

Women are above this folly, and therefore chuse much oftener from
affection than men. We are a thousand times wiser, Lucy, than these
important beings, these mighty lords,

"Who strut and fret their hour upon the stage;"

and, instead of playing the part in life which nature dictates to
their reason and their hearts, act a borrowed one at the will of
others.

I had rather even judge ill, than not judge for myself.

Adieu! yours ever,
A. Fermor.

LETTER 83.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Quebec, March 4.

After debating with myself some days, I am determined to pursue
Emily; but, before I make a declaration, will go to see some ungranted
lands at the back of Madame Des Roches's estate; which, lying on a very
fine river, and so near the St. Lawrence, may I think be cultivated at
less expence than those above Lake Champlain, though in a much inferior
climate: if I make my settlement here, I will purchase the estate
Madame Des Roches has to sell, which will open me a road to the river
St. Lawrence, and consequently treble the value of my lands.

I love, I adore this charming woman; but I will not suffer my
tenderness for her to make her unhappy, or to lower her station in
life: if I can, by my present plan, secure her what will in this
country be a degree of affluence, I will endeavor to change her
friendship for me into a tenderer and more lively affection; if she
loves, I know by my own heart, that Canada will be no longer a place of
exile; if I have flattered myself, and she has only a friendship for
me, I will return immediately to England, and retire with you and my
mother to our little estate in the country.

You will perhaps say, why not make Emily of our party? I am almost
ashamed to speak plain; but so weak are we, and so guided by the
prejudices we fancy we despise, that I cannot bear my Emily, after
refusing a coach and six, should live without an equipage suitable at
least to her birth, and the manner in which she has always lived when
in England.

I know this is folly, that it is a despicable pride; but it is a
folly, a pride, I cannot conquer.

There are moments when I am above all this childish prejudice, but
it returns upon me in spite of myself.

Will you come to us, my Lucy? Tell my mother, I will build her a
rustic palace, and settle a little principality on