To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.
Montreal, May 28.
I cannot enough, my dear Temple, thank you for your last, though it
destroys my air-built scheme of happiness.
Could I have supposed my mother would thus severely have felt my
absence, I had never left England; to make her easier, was my only
motive for that step.
I with pleasure sacrifice my design of settling here to her peace of
mind; no consideration, however, shall ever make me give up that of
marrying the best and most charming of women.
I could have wished to have had a fortune worthy of her; this was my
wish, not that of my Emily; she will with equal pleasure share with me
poverty or riches: I hope her consent to marry me before I leave
Canada. I know the advantages of affluence, my dear Temple, and am too
reasonable to despise them; I would only avoid rating them above their
worth.
Riches undoubtedly purchase a variety of pleasures which are not
otherwise to be obtained; they give power, they give honors, they give
consequence; but if, to enjoy these subordinate goods, we must give up
those which are more essential, more real, more suited to our natures,
I can never hesitate one moment to determine between them.
I know nothing fortune has to bestow, which can equal the transport
of being dear to the most amiable, most lovely of womankind.
The stream of life, my dear Temple, stagnates without the gentle
gale of love; till I knew my Emily, till the dear moment which assured
me of her tenderness, I could scarce be said to live.
Adieu! Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.