facilitate their union; and remember, that to your request, and to Mrs.
Rivers's tranquillity, they have sacrificed every prospect they had of
happiness.

I would say more; but my spirits are so affected, I am incapable of
writing.

Love my sweet Emily, and let her not repent the generosity of her
conduct.

Adieu! your affectionate
A. Fermor.

LETTER 155.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, June 10, Evening.

My poor Rivers! I think I felt more from his going than even from
Emily's: whilst he was here, I seemed not quite to have lost her: I now
feel doubly the loss of both.

He begged me to shew attention to Madame Des Roches, who he assured
me merited my tenderest friendship; he wrote to her, and has left the
letter open in my care: it is to thank her, in the most affectionate
terms, for her politeness and friendship, as well to himself as to his
Emily; and to offer her his best services in England in regard to her
estate, part of which some people here have very ungenerously applied
for a grant of, on pretence of its not being all settled according to
the original conditions.

He owned to me, he felt some regret at leaving this amiable woman in
Canada, and at the idea of never seeing her more.

I love him for this sensibility; and for his delicate attention to
one whose disinterested affection for him most certainly deserves it.

Fitzgerald is below, he does all possible to console me for the loss
of my friends; but indeed, Lucy, I feel their absence most severely.

I have an opportunity of sending your brother's letter to Madame Des
Roches, which I must not lose, as they are not very frequent: 'tis by
a French gentleman who is now with my father.

Adieu! your faithful,
A. Fermor.

Twelve at night.

We have been talking of your brother; I have been saying, there is
nothing I so much admire in him as that tenderness of soul, and almost
female sensibility, which is so uncommon in a sex, whose whole
education tends to harden their hearts.

Fitzgerald admires his spirit, his understanding, his generosity,
his courage, the warmth of his friendship.

My father his knowledge of the world; not that indiscriminate
suspicion of mankind which is falsely so called; but that clearness of
mental sight, and discerning faculty, which can distinguish virtue as
well as vice, wherever it resides.

"I also love in him," said my father, "that noble sincerity, that
integr