ance
to be displeased with ours.

I am inclined to like this proposal: Temple and I will make a
calculation; and, if we find it will answer every necessary purpose to
my mother, I owe it to Emily to accept of it.

I endeavor to persuade myself, that I am obliging my mother, by
giving her an opportunity of shewing her generosity, and of making me
happy: I have been in spirits ever since she mentioned it.

I have already projected a million of improvements; have taught new
streams to flow, planted ideal groves, and walked, fancy-led, in shades
of my own raising.

The situation of the house is enchanting; and with all my passion
for the savage luxuriance of America, I begin to find my taste return
for the more mild and regular charms of my native country.

We have no Chaudieres, no Montmorencis, none of those magnificent
scenes on which the Canadians have a right to pride themselves; but we
excel them in the lovely, the smiling; in enameled meadows, in waving
corn-fields, in gardens the boast of Europe; in every elegant art which
adorns and softens human life; in all the riches and beauty which
cultivation can give.

I begin to think I may be blest in the possession of my Emily,
without betraying her into a state of want; we may, I begin to flatter
myself, live with decency, in retirement; and, in my opinion, there
are a thousand charms in retirement with those we love.

Upon the whole, I believe we shall be able to live, taking the word
_live_ in the sense of lovers, not of the _beau monde_, who will
never allow a little country squire of four hundred pounds a year to
_live_.

Time may do more for us; at least, I am of an age and temper to
encourage hope.

All here are perfectly yours.

Adieu! my dear friend,
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 170.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Silleri, Aug. 6.

The leave of absence for my father and Fitzgerald being come some
weeks sooner than we expected, we propose leaving Canada in five or six
days.

I am delighted with the idea of revisiting dear England, and seeing
friends whom I so tenderly love: yet I feel a regret, which I had no
idea I should have felt, at leaving the scenes of a thousand past
pleasures; the murmuring rivulets to which Emily and I have sat
listening, the sweet woods where I have walked with my little circle of
friends: I have even a strong attachment to the scenes themselves,
which are infinitely lovely, and sp