he should be a great loser by
seeing them, as it would restrain my pen when I talk of him.

I believe, I am very foolish in my tenderness; but you will forgive
me.

Rivers yesterday was throwing flowers at me and Lucy, in play, as we
were walking in the garden; I catched a wallflower, and, by an
involuntary impulse, kissed it, and placed it in my bosom.

He observed me, and his look of pleasure and affection is impossible
to be described. What exquisite pleasure there is in these agreable
follies!

He is the sweetest trifler in the world, my dear Bell: but in what
does he not excel all mankind!

As the season of autumnal flowers is almost over, he is sending for
all those which blow early in the spring: he prevents every wish his
Emily can form.

Did you ever, my dear, see so fine an autumn as this? you will,
perhaps, smile when I say, I never saw one so pleasing; such a season
is more lovely than even the spring: I want you down before this
agreable weather is all over.

I am going to air with my mother; my Rivers attends us on horseback;
you cannot think how amiable his attention is to both.

Adieu! my dear; my mother has sent to let me know she is ready.

Your affectionate
Emily Rivers.

LETTER 205.

To Captain Fitzgerald.

Bellfield, Oct. 24.

Some author has said, "The happiness of the next world, to the
virtuous, will consist in enjoying the society of minds like their
own."

Why then should we not do our best to possess as much as possible of
this happiness here?

You will see this is a preface to a very earnest request to see
Captain Fitzgerald and the lovely Bell immediately at our farm: take
notice, I will not admit even business as an excuse much longer.

I am just come from a walk in the wood behind the house, with my
mother and Emily; I want you to see it before it loses all its charms;
in another fortnight, its present variegated foliage will be literally
_humbled in the dust_.

There is something very pleasing in this season, if it did not give
us the idea of the winter, which is approaching too fast.

The dryness of the air, the soft western breeze, the tremulous
motion of the falling leaves, the rustling of those already fallen
under our feet, their variety of lively colors, give a certain spirit
and agreable fluctuation to the scene, which is unspeakably pleasing.

By the way, we people of warm imaginations have vast advantages over
others; we scorn to