of nature and
of art, all the charms of society, and separate ourselves from mankind,
to amass wealth, which the very profession takes away all possibility
of enjoying!

Even glory is a poor reward for a life passed at sea.

I had rather be a peasant on a sunny bank, with peace, safety,
obscurity, bread, and a little garden of roses, than lord high admiral
of the British fleet.

Setting aside the variety of dangers at sea, the time passed there
is a total suspension of one's existence: I speak of the best part of
our time there, for at least a third of every voyage is positive
misery.

I abhor the sea, and am peevish with every creature about me.

If there were no other evil attending this vile life, only think of
being cooped up weeks together in such a space, and with the same
eternal set of people.

If cards had not a little relieved me, I should have died of meer
vexation before I had finished half the voyage.

What would I not give to see the dear white cliffs of Albion!

Adieu! I have not time to say more.

Your affectionate
A. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 175.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Dover, Sept. 8.

We are this instant landed, my dear, and shall be in town to-morrow.

My father stops one day on the road, to introduce Mr. Fitzgerald to
a relation of ours, who lives a few miles from Canterbury.

I am wild with joy at setting foot once more on dry land.

I am not less happy to have traced your brother and Emily, by my
enquiries here, for we left Quebec too soon to have advice there of
their arrival.

Adieu! If in town, you shall see us the moment we get there; if in
the country, write immediately, to the care of the agent.

Let me know where to find Emily, whom I die to see: is she still
Emily Montague?

Adieu!
Your affectionate
A. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 176.

To Mrs. Fitzgerald.

Temple-house, Sept. 11.

Your letter, my dear Bell, was sent by this post to the country.

It is unnecessary to tell you the pleasure it gives us all to hear
of your safe arrival.

All our argosies have now landed their treasures: you will believe
us to have been more anxious about friends so dear to us, than the
merchant for his gold and spices; we have suffered the greater
anxiety, by the circumstance of your having returned at different
times.

I flatter myself, the future will pay us for the past.

You may now, my dear Bell, revive your coterie, with t