To Captain Fitzgerald.
Bellfield, Nov. 12.
Please to inform the little Bell, I won't allow her to spoil my
Emily.
I enter a caveat against male friendships, which are only fit for
ladies of the _salamandrine_ order.
I desire to engross all Emily's _kind propensities_ to myself;
and should grudge the least share in her heart, or, if you please in
her _friendship_, to an archangel.
However, not to be too severe, since prudery expects women to have
no propensities at all, I allow single ladies, of all ranks, sizes,
ages, and complexions, to spread the veil of friendship between their
hearts and the world.
'Tis the finest day I ever saw, though the middle of November; a dry
soft west wind, the air as mild as in April, and an almost Canadian
sunshine.
I have been bathing in the clear stream, at the end of my garden;
the same stream in which I laved my careless bosom at thirteen; an
idea which gave me inconceivable delight; and the more, as my bosom is
as gay and tranquil at this moment as in those dear hours of
chearfulness and innocence.
Of all local prejudices, that is the strongest as well as most
pleasing, which attaches us to the place of our birth.
Sweet home! only seat of true and genuine happiness.