"A thousand little tendernesses throb,"
on revisiting those dear scenes of infant happiness; which were
increased by having with me that estimable, that affectionate mother,
to whose indulgence all my happiness had been owing.
But to return to the purpose of our visit: the house is what most
people would think too large for the estate, even had I a right to call
it all my own; this is, however, a fault, if it is one, which I can
easily forgive.
There is furniture enough in it for my family, including my mother;
it is unfashionable, but some of it very good: and I think Emily has
tenderness enough for me to live with me in a house, the furniture of
which is not perfectly in taste.
In short, I know her much above having the slightest wish of vanity,
where it comes in competition with love.
We can, as to the house, live here commodiously enough; and our only
present consideration is, on what we are to live: a consideration,
however, which as lovers, I believe in strictness we ought to be much
above!
My mother again solicits me to resume this estate; and has proposed
my making over to her my half-pay instead of it, though of much less
value, which, with her own two hundred pounds a year, will, she says,
enable her to continue her house in town, a point I am determined never
to suffer her to give up; because she loves London; and because I
insist on her having her own house to go to, if she should ever chance
to be displeased with ours.
I am inclined to like this proposal: Temple and I will make a
calculation; and, if we find it will answer every necessary purpose to
my mother, I owe it to Emily to accept of it.
I endeavor to persuade myself, that I am obliging my mother, by
giving her an opportunity of shewing her generosity, and of making me
happy: I have been in spirits ever since she mentioned it.
I have already projected a million of improvements; have taught new
streams to flow, planted ideal groves, and walked, fancy-led, in shades
of my own raising.
The situation of the house is enchanting; and with all my passion
for the savage luxuriance of America, I begin to find my taste return
for the more mild and regular charms of my native country.
We have no Chaudieres, no Montmorencis, none of those magnificent
scenes on which the Canadians have a right to pride themselves; but we
excel them in the lovely, the smiling; in enameled meadows, in waving
corn-fields, in gardens the boast of Europe; in every elegant art which
adorns and softens human life; in all the riches and beauty which
cultivation can give.
I begin to think I may be blest in the possession of my Emily,
without betraying her into a state of want; we may, I begin to flatter
myself, live with decency, in retirement; and, in my opinion, there
are a thousand charms in retirement with those we love.
Upon the whole, I believe we shall be able to live, taking the word
_live_ in the sense of lovers, not of the _beau monde_, who will
never allow a little country squire of four hundred pounds a year to
_live_.
Time may do more for us; at least, I am of an age and temper to
encourage hope.
All here are perfectly yours.
Adieu! my dear friend,
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.