I am very severe upon the sex; and have
I not reason to be so, since I have found so many frail ones among them?
This, however, is departing from my subject.

Eliza is extremely altered. Her pale, dejected countenance, with the
sedateness of her manners, so different from the lively glow of health,
cheerfulness, and activity which formerly animated her appearance and
deportment, struck me very disagreeably.

With all my gallantry and fluency in love matters, I was unable to
acquit myself tolerably, or to address her with any degree of ease and
confidence. She was very calm, and spoke with great indifference about
my marriage, &c., which mortified me exceedingly. Yet I cannot consent
to believe that her present depression of spirits arises solely from
Mr. Boyer's infidelity. I flatter myself that I am of sufficient
consequence to her to have contributed in a degree.

When I inquired after her health, she told me she had been indisposed;
but was now much better. This indisposition, I am informed, was purely
mental; and I am happy to observe her recovering from it. I frequently
visit her, sometimes with and sometimes without my wife, of whom,
through my mediation, she has become a favorite. I have married, and
according to the general opinion reformed. Yet I suspect my reformation,
like most others of the kind, will prove instable as "the baseless
fabric of a vision," unless I banish myself entirely from her society.
But that I can never do; for she is still lovely in my eyes, and I
cannot control my passions.

When absent from her I am lost to every thing but her idea. My wife
begins to rally me on my fondness for Miss Wharton. She asked me the
other day if she had a fortune. "No," said I; "if she had I should have
married her." This wounded her sensibility. I repented of my sincerity,
and made my peace for that time. Yet I find myself growing extremely
irritable, and she must take heed how she provokes me; for I do not love
her, and I think the name of wife becomes more and more distasteful to
me every day.

In my mind, Eliza has no competitor. But I must keep up appearances,
though I endeavor to regain her love. I imagine that the enjoyment of
her society as a neighbor and friend may content me for the present, and
render my condition supportable.

Farewell, Charles. I hope you will never be embarrassed with a wife, nor
lack some favorite nymph to supply the place of one.

PETER SANFORD.

LETTER LIX.

TO M