aking interest to dance with me; what a happy exchange have I made!
what man of common sense would stay to be overlook'd in England, who
can have rival beauties contend for him in Canada? This important
point is not yet settled; the _etiquette_ here is rather difficult
to adjust; as to me, I have nothing to do in the consultation; my
hand is destin'd to the longest pedigree; we stand prodigiously on our
noblesse at Montreal.

Four o'clock.

After a dispute in which two French ladies were near drawing their
husbands into a duel, the point of honor is yielded by both to Miss
Montague; each insisting only that I should not dance with the other:
for my part, I submit with a good grace, as you will suppose.

Saturday morning.

I never passed a more agreeable evening: we have our amusements
here, I assure you: a set of fine young fellows, and handsome women,
all well dress'd, and in humor with themselves, and with each other: my
lovely Emily like Venus amongst the Graces, only multiplied to about
sixteen. Nothing is, in my opinion, so favorable to the display of
beauty as a ball. A state of rest is ungraceful; all nature is most
beautiful in motion; trees agitated by the wind, a ship under sail, a
horse in the course, a fine woman dancing: never any human being had
such an aversion to still life as I have.

I am going back to Melmoth's for a month; don't be alarm'd, Lucy! I
see all her perfections, but I see them with the cold eye of admiration
only: a woman engaged loses all her attractions as a woman; there is
no love without a ray of hope: my only ambition is to be her friend; I
want to be the confidant of her passion. With what spirit such a mind
as hers must love!

Adieu! my dear!
Yours,
Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 7.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Montreal, August 15.

By Heavens, Lucy, this is more than man can bear; I was mad to stay
so long at Melmoth's; there is no resisting this little seducer: 'tis
shameful in such a lovely woman to have understanding too; yet even
this I could forgive, had she not that enchanting softness in her
manner, which steals upon the soul, and would almost make ugliness
itself charm; were she but vain, one had some chance, but she will take
upon her to have no consciousness, at least no apparent consciousness,
of her perfections, which is really intolerable. I told her so last
night, when she put on such a malicious smile--I believe the little
tyra