t; yet this is called a mild day,
and the sun shines in all his glory.

Silleri, Thursday, Jan. 8, midnight.

We are just come from the general's assembly; much company, and we
danced till this minute; for I believe we have not been more coming
these four miles.

Fitzgerald is the very pink of courtesy; he never uses his covered
carriole himself, but devotes it intirely to the ladies; it stands at
the general's door in waiting on Thursdays: if any lady comes out
before her carriole arrives, the servants call out mechanically,
"Captain Fitzgerald's carriole here, for a lady." The Colonel is
equally gallant, but I generally lay an embargo on his: they have each
of them an extreme pretty one for themselves, or to drive a fair lady a
morning's airing, when she will allow them the honor, and the weather
is mild enough to permit it.

_Bon soir!_ I am sleepy.
Yours,
A. Fermor.

LETTER 51.

To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.

Quebec, Jan. 9.

You mistake me extremely, Jack, as you generally do: I have by no
means forsworn marriage: on the contrary, though happiness is not so
often found there as I wish it was, yet I am convinced it is to be
found no where else; and, poor as I am, I should not hesitate about
trying the experiment myself to-morrow, if I could meet with a woman
to my taste, unappropriated, whose ideas of the state agreed with mine,
which I allow are something out of the common road: but I must be
certain those ideas are her own, therefore they must arise
spontaneously, and not in complaisance to mine; for which reason, if I
could, I would endeavour to lead my mistress into the subject, and know
her sentiments on the manner of living in that state before I
discovered my own.

I must also be well convinced of her tenderness before I make a
declaration of mine: she must not distinguish me because I flatter her,
but because she thinks I have merit; those fancied passions, where
gratified vanity assumes the form of love, will not satisfy my heart:
the eyes, the air, the voice of the woman I love, a thousand little
indiscretions dear to the heart, must convince me I am beloved, before
I confess I love.

Though sensible of the advantages of fortune, I can be happy without
it: if I should ever be rich enough to live in the world, no one will
enjoy it with greater gust; if not, I can with great spirit, provided I
find such a companion as I wish, retire from it to love, content, and a