To Captain Fitzgerald.
Bellfield, Oct. 24.
Some author has said, "The happiness of the next world, to the
virtuous, will consist in enjoying the society of minds like their
own."
Why then should we not do our best to possess as much as possible of
this happiness here?
You will see this is a preface to a very earnest request to see
Captain Fitzgerald and the lovely Bell immediately at our farm: take
notice, I will not admit even business as an excuse much longer.
I am just come from a walk in the wood behind the house, with my
mother and Emily; I want you to see it before it loses all its charms;
in another fortnight, its present variegated foliage will be literally
_humbled in the dust_.
There is something very pleasing in this season, if it did not give
us the idea of the winter, which is approaching too fast.
The dryness of the air, the soft western breeze, the tremulous
motion of the falling leaves, the rustling of those already fallen
under our feet, their variety of lively colors, give a certain spirit
and agreable fluctuation to the scene, which is unspeakably pleasing.
By the way, we people of warm imaginations have vast advantages over
others; we scorn to be confined to present scenes, or to give
attention to such trifling objects as times and seasons.
I already anticipate the spring; see the woodbines and wild roses
bloom in my grove, and almost catch the gale of perfume.
Twelve o'clock.