e
rapid current of the Garonne below, while I described the wild scenery
about its source, but thought only of you. O Emily! are these moments
passed for ever--will they never more return?'

In another part of his letter he wrote thus. 'You see my letter is dated
on many different days, and, if you look back to the first, you will
perceive, that I began to write soon after your departure from France.
To write was, indeed, the only employment that withdrew me from my own
melancholy, and rendered your absence supportable, or rather, it seemed
to destroy absence; for, when I was conversing with you on paper,
and telling you every sentiment and affection of my heart, you almost
appeared to be present. This employment has been from time to time my
chief consolation, and I have deferred sending off my packet, merely
for the comfort of prolonging it, though it was certain, that what I
had written, was written to no purpose till you received it. Whenever my
mind has been more than usually depressed I have come to pour forth its
sorrows to you, and have always found consolation; and, when any little
occurrence has interested my heart, and given a gleam of joy to my
spirits, I have hastened to communicate it to you, and have received
reflected satisfaction. Thus, my letter is a kind of picture of my life
and of my thoughts for the last month, and thus, though it has been
deeply interesting to me, while I wrote it, and I dare hope will, for
the same reason, be not indifferent to you, yet to other readers it
would seem to abound only in frivolities. Thus it is always, when we
attempt to describe the finer movements of the heart, for they are too
fine to be discerned, they can only be experienced, and are therefore
passed over by the indifferent observer, while the interested one feels,
that all description is imperfect and unnecessary, except as it may
prove the sincerity of the writer, and sooth his own sufferings. You
will pardon all this egotism--for I am a lover.'

'I have just heard of a circumstance, which entirely destroys all my
fairy paradise of ideal delight, and which will reconcile me to the
necessity of returning to my regiment, for I must no longer wander
beneath the beloved shades, where I have been accustomed to meet you
in thought.--La Vallee is let! I have reason to believe this is without
your knowledge, from what Theresa told me this morning, and, therefore,
I mention the circumstance. She shed tears, while she