e
J. Temple.

LETTER 211.

To Captain Fitzgerald.

Bellfield, Nov. 1.

I have this moment a letter from Temple which has set my heart at
rest: he writes like a lover, yet owns his past danger, with a
frankness which speaks more strongly than any professions could do, the
real present state of his heart.

My anxiety for my sister has a little broke in on my own happiness;
in England, where the married women are in general the most virtuous in
the world, it is of infinite consequence they should love their
husbands, and be beloved by them; in countries where gallantry is more
permitted, it is less necessary.

Temple will make her happy whilst she preserves his heart; but, if
she loses it, every thing is to be feared from the vivacity of his
nature, which can never support one moment a life of indifference.

He has that warmth of temper which is the natural soil of the
virtues; but which is unhappily, at the same time, most apt to produce
indiscretions.

Tame, cold, dispassionate minds resemble barren lands; warm,
animated ones, rich ground, which, if properly cultivated, yields the
noblest fruit; but, if neglected, from its luxuriance is most
productive of weeds.

His misfortune has been losing both his parents when almost an
infant; and having been master of himself and a noble fortune, at an
age when the passions hurry us beyond the bounds of reason.

I am the only person on earth by whom he would ever bear to be
controlled in any thing; happily for Lucy, I preserve the influence
over him which friendship first gave me.

That influence, and her extreme attention to study his taste in
every thing; with those uncommon graces both of mind and person she has
received from nature, will, I hope, effectually fix this wandering
star.

She tells me, she has asked you to a masquerade at Temple-house, to
which you will extremely oblige us all by coming.

You do not tell us, whether the affair of your majority is settled:
if obliged to return immediately, Temple will send you back.

Adieu! Your faithful
Ed. Rivers.

I have this moment your last letter: you are right, we American
travellers are under great disadvantages; our imaginations are
restrained; we have not the pomp of the orient to describe, but the
simple and unadorned charms of nature.

LETTER 212.

To Colonel Rivers, Bellfield, Rutland.

Nov. 4.

Sir William Verville is come back to town; I was with him