To Captain Fitzgerald.
Bellfield, Nov. 1.
I have this moment a letter from Temple which has set my heart at
rest: he writes like a lover, yet owns his past danger, with a
frankness which speaks more strongly than any professions could do, the
real present state of his heart.
My anxiety for my sister has a little broke in on my own happiness;
in England, where the married women are in general the most virtuous in
the world, it is of infinite consequence they should love their
husbands, and be beloved by them; in countries where gallantry is more
permitted, it is less necessary.
Temple will make her happy whilst she preserves his heart; but, if
she loses it, every thing is to be feared from the vivacity of his
nature, which can never support one moment a life of indifference.
He has that warmth of temper which is the natural soil of the
virtues; but which is unhappily, at the same time, most apt to produce
indiscretions.
Tame, cold, dispassionate minds resemble barren lands; warm,
animated ones, rich ground, which, if properly cultivated, yields the
noblest fruit; but, if neglected, from its luxuriance is most
productive of weeds.
His misfortune has been losing both his parents when almost an
infant; and having been master of himself and a noble fortune, at an
age when the passions hurry us beyond the bounds of reason.
I am the only person on earth by whom he would ever bear to be
controlled in any thing; happily for Lucy, I preserve the influence
over him which friendship first gave me.
That influence, and her extreme attention to study his taste in
every thing; with those uncommon graces both of mind and person she has
received from nature, will, I hope, effectually fix this wandering
star.
She tells me, she has asked you to a masquerade at Temple-house, to
which you will extremely oblige us all by coming.
You do not tell us, whether the affair of your majority is settled:
if obliged to return immediately, Temple will send you back.
Adieu! Your faithful
Ed. Rivers.
I have this moment your last letter: you are right, we American
travellers are under great disadvantages; our imaginations are
restrained; we have not the pomp of the orient to describe, but the
simple and unadorned charms of nature.