nt wants to add me to the list of her slaves; but I was not form'd
to fill up a train. The woman I love must be so far from giving
another the preference, that she must have no soul but for me; I am one
of the most unreasonable men in the world on this head; she may fancy
what she pleases, but I set her and all her attractions at defiance: I
have made my escape, and shall set off for Quebec in an hour. Flying
is, I must acknowledge, a little out of character, and unbecoming a
soldier; but in these cases, it is the very best thing man or woman
either can do, when they doubt their powers of resistance.

I intend to be ten days going to Quebec. I propose visiting the
priests at every village, and endeavouring to get some knowledge of the
nature of the country, in order to my intended settlement. Idleness
being the root of all evil, and the nurse of love, I am determin'd to
keep myself employed; nothing can be better suited to my temper than
my present design; the pleasure of cultivating lands here is as much
superior to what can be found in the same employment in England, as
watching the expanding rose, and beholding the falling leaves: America
is in infancy, Europe in old age. Nor am I very ill qualified for this
agreable task: I have studied the Georgicks, and am a pretty enough
kind of a husbandman as far as theory goes; nay, I am not sure I shall
not be, even in practice, the best _gentleman_ farmer in the
province.

You may expect soon to hear of me in the _Museum Rusticum_; I
intend to make amazing discoveries in the rural way: I have already
found out, by the force of my own genius, two very uncommon
circumstances; that in Canada, contrary to what we see every where
else, the country is rich, the capital poor; the hills fruitful, the
vallies barren. You see what excellent dispositions I have to be an
useful member of society: I had always a strong biass to the study of
natural philosophy.

Tell my mother how well I am employ'd, and she cannot but approve my
voyage: assure her, my dear, of my tenderest regard.

The chaise is at the door.

Adieu!
Ed. Rivers.

The lover is every hour expected; I am not quite sure I should have
lik'd to see him arrive: a third person, you know, on such an occasion,
sinks into nothing; and I love, wherever I am, to be one of the figures
which strike the eye; I hate to appear on the back ground of the
picture.

LETTER 8.

To Miss Rivers.

Quebec, Aug. 2