To John Temple, Esq. Temple-house, Rutland.
Rose-hill, Sept. 22, Ten o'clock.
She is mine, my dear Temple; and I am happy almost above mortality.
I cannot paint to you her loveliness; the grace, the dignity, the
mild majesty of her air, is softened by a smile like that of angels:
her eyes have a tender sweetness, her cheeks a blush of refined
affection, which must be seen to be imagined.
I envy Captain Fermor the happiness of being in the same chaise with
her; I shall be very bad company to Bell, who insists on my being her
cecisbeo for the journey.
Adieu! The chaises are at the door.
Your affectionate
Ed. Rivers.