acquaintance; among whom I was not a little surprised to see Major
Sanford. He came in company with Mr. Stoddard and lady, whom he
overtook, as he told me, near by; and, as they informed him that the
design of their visit was to welcome me home, he readily accepted their
invitation to partake of the pleasure which every one must receive on my
return. I bowed slightly at his compliment, taking no visible notice of
any peculiarity of expression either in his words or looks.

His politeness to Mr. Boyer appeared to be the result of habit; Mr.
Boyer's to him to be forced by respect to the company to which he had
gained admission. I dare say that each felt a conscious superiority--the
one on the score of merit, the other on that of fortune. Which ought to
outweigh the judicious mind will easily decide. The scale, as I once
observed to you, will turn as fancy or reason preponderates. I believe
the esteem which I now have for Mr. Boyer will keep me steady; except,
perhaps, some little eccentricities now and then, just by way of
variety. I am going to-morrow morning to spend a few days with Lucy
Freeman, to assist in the preparation for, and the solemnization of, her
nuptials. Mr. Boyer, in the mean time, will tarry among his friends in
town. My mamma is excessively partial to him, though I am not yet
jealous that she means to rival me. I am not certain, however, but it
might be happy for him if she should; for I suspect, not withstanding
the disparity of her age, that she is better calculated to make him a
good wife than I am or ever shall be.

But to be sober. Please, madam, to make my compliments acceptable to
those of your neighbors, whose politeness and attention to me while at
your house have laid me under particular obligations of gratitude and
respect. My best regards attend General Richman. Pray tell him that,
though I never expect to be so good a wife as he is blessed with, yet I
intend, after a while, (when I have sowed all my wild oats,) to make a
tolerable one.

I am anxious to hear of a wished-for event, and of your safety. All who
know you feel interested in your health and happiness, but none more
warmly than your obliged and affectionate

ELIZA WHARTON.


LETTER XXXV.

TO MISS ELIZA WHARTON.

NEW HAVEN.

I write a line, at Mrs. Richman's request, just to inform you, Eliza,
that, yesterday, that lovely and beloved woman presented me with a
daughter. This event awakens new sensations in my mind, and calls into
exercise a kind of affection which had before lain dormant. I feel
already the tenderness of a parent, while imagination fondly traces the
mother's likeness in the infant form. Mrs. Richman expects to receive
your congratulations in a letter by the next post. She bids me tell
you, moreover, that she hopes soon to receive an invitation, and be able
to attend, to the consummation you talk of. Give Mrs. Richman's and my
particular regards to your excellent mother and to the worthy Mr. Boyer.
With sentiments of esteem and friendship, I am, &c.,

S. RICHMAN.


LETTER XXXVI.

TO MRS. RICHMAN.

HARTFORD.

From the scenes of festive mirth, from the conviviality of rejoicing
friends, and from the dissipating amusements of the gay world, I retire
with alacrity, to hail my beloved friend on the important charge which
she has received; on the accession to her family, and, may I not say, on
the addition to her care? since that care will be more than
counterbalanced by the pleasure it confers. Hail, happy babe! ushered
into the world by the best of mothers; entitled by birthright to virtue
and honor; defended by parental love from the weakness of infancy and
childhood, by guardian wisdom from the perils of youth, and by affluent
independence from the griping hand of poverty in more advanced life! May
these animating prospects be realized by your little daughter, and may
you long enjoy the rich reward of seeing her all that you wish.

Yesterday, my dear friend, Lucy Freeman, gave her hand to the amiable
and accomplished Mr. George Sumner. A large circle of congratulating
friends were present. Her dress was such as wealth and elegance
required. Her deportment was every thing that modesty and propriety
could suggest. They are, indeed, a charming couple. The consonance of
their dispositions, the similarity of their tastes, and the equality of
their ages are a sure pledge of happiness. Every eye beamed with
pleasure on the occasion, and every tongue echoed the wishes of
benevolence. Mine only was silent. Though not less interested in the
felicity of my friend than the rest, yet the idea of a separation,
perhaps of an alienation of affection, by means of her entire devotion
to another, cast an involuntary gloom over my mind. Mr. Boyer took my
hand after the ceremony was past. "Permit me, Miss Wharton," said he,
"to lead you to your lovely friend; her happiness must be heightened by
your participation of it." "O, no," said I, "I am too selfish for that.
She has conferred upon another that affection which I wished to engross.
My love was too fervent to admit a rival." "Retaliate, then," said he,
"this fancied wrong by doing likewise." I observed that this was not a
proper time to discuss that subject, and, resuming my seat, endeavored
to put on the appearance of my accustomed vivacity. I need not relate
the remaining particulars of-the evening's entertainment. Mr. Boyer
returned with my mamma, and I remained at Mrs. Freeman's.

We are to have a ball here this evening. Mr. Boyer has been with us, and
tried to monopolize my company; but in vain. I am too much engaged by
the exhilarating scenes around for attending to a subject which affords
no variety. I shall not close this till to-morrow.

I am rather fatigued with the amusements of last night, which were
protracted to a late hour. Mr. Boyer was present; and I was pleased to
see him not averse to the entertainment, though his profession prevented
him from taking an active part. As all the neighboring gentry were
invited, Mr. Freeman would by no means omit Major Sanford, which his
daughter earnestly solicited. It happened (unfortunately, shall I say?)
that I drew him for a partner. Yet I must own that I felt very little
reluctance to my lot. He is an excellent dancer, and well calculated for
a companion in the hours of mirth and gayety. I regretted Mr. Boyer's
being present, however, because my enjoyment seemed to give him pain. I
hope he is not inclined to the passion of jealousy. If he is, I fear it
will be somewhat exercised.

Lucy Freeman, now Mrs. Sumner, removes next week to Boston. I have
agreed to accompany her, and spend a month or two in her family. This
will give variety to the journey of life. Be so kind as to direct your
next letter to me there.

Kiss the dear little babe for me. Give love, compliments, &c., as
respectively due; and believe me, with every sentiment of respect, your
affectionate

ELIZA WHARTON.


LETTER XXXVII.

TO MR. CHARLES DEIGHTON.

HARTFORD.

Dear Charles: My hopes begin to revive. I am again permitted to
associate with my Eliza--invited to the same entertainment. She does not
refuse to join with me in the mazy dance, and partake the scenes of
festive mirth. Nay, more; she allows me to press her hand to my lips,
and listens to the sighing accents of love. Love her I certainly do.
Would to Heaven I could marry her! Would to Heaven I had preserved my
fortune, or she had one to supply its place! I am distracted at the idea
of losing her forever. I am sometimes tempted to solicit her hand in
serious earnest; but if I should, poverty and want must be the
consequence. Her disappointment in the expectation of affluence and
splendor, which I believe her ruling passion, would afford a perpetual
source of discontent and mutual wretchedness.

She is going to Boston with her friend, Mrs. Sumner. I must follow her.
I must break the connection which is rapidly forming between her and Mr.
Boyer, and enjoy her society a while longer, if no more.

I have had a little intimation from New Haven that Miss Lawrence is
partial to me, and might easily be obtained, with a handsome property
into the bargain. I am neither pleased with nor averse to the girl; but
she has money, and that may supply the place of love, by enabling me to
pursue independent pleasures. This she must expect, if she marries a man
of my cast. She, doubtless, knows my character; and if she is so vain of
her charms or influence as to think of reforming or confining me, she
must bear the consequences.

However, I can keep my head up at present without recourse to the noose
of matrimony, and shall therefore defer any particular attention to her
till necessity requires it. I am, &c.,

PETER SANFORD.


LETTER XXXVIII.

TO MRS. M. WHARTON.

BOSTON.

You commanded me, my dear mamma, to write to you. That command I
cheerfully obey, in testimony of my ready submission and respect. No
other avocation could arrest my time, which is now completely occupied
in scenes of amusement.

Mrs. Sumner is agreeably settled and situated. She appears to be
possessed of every blessing which can render life desirable. Almost
every day since our arrival has been engrossed by visitants. Our
evenings we have devoted to company abroad; and that more generally than
we should otherwise have done, as my stay is limited to so short a
period. The museum, the theatres, the circus, and the assemblies have
been frequented.

Mrs. Sumner has made me several presents; notwithstanding which, the
articles requisite to a fashionable appearance have involved me in
considerable expense. I fear that you will think me extravagant when you
are told how much.

Mr. Boyer tarried in town about a week, having business. He appeared a
little concerned at my taste for dissipation, as he once termed it. He
even took the liberty to converse seriously on the subject.

I was displeased with his freedom, and reminded him that I had the
disposal of my own time as yet, and that, while I escaped the censure of
my own heart, I hoped that no one else would presume to arraign it. He
apologized, and gave up his argument.

I was much surprised, the first time I went to the play, to see Major
Sanford in the very next box. He immediately joined our party; and
wherever I have been since, I have been almost sure to meet him.

Mr. Boyer has taken his departure; and I do not expect to see him again
till I return home.

O mamma, I am embarrassed about this man. His worth I acknowledge; nay,
I esteem him very highly. But can there be happiness with such a
disparity of dispositions?

I shall soon return to the bosom of domestic tranquillity, to the arms
of maternal tenderness, where I can deliberate and advise at leisure
about this important matter. Till when, I am, &c.,

ELIZA WHARTON.


LETTER XXXIX.

TO MR. T. SELBY.

HAMPSHIRE.

Dear sir: I believe that I owe you an apology for my long silence. But
my time has been much engrossed of late, and my mind much more so. When
it will be otherwise I cannot foresee. I fear, my friend, that there is
some foundation for your suspicions respecting my beloved Eliza. What
pity it is that so fair a form, so accomplished a mind, should be
tarnished in the smallest degree by the follies of coquetry! If this be
the fact, which I am loath to believe, all my regard for her shall never
make me the dupe of it.

When I arrived at her residence at New Haven, where I told you in my
last I was soon to go, she gave me a most cordial reception. Her whole
behavior to me was correspondent with those sentiments of esteem and
affection which she modestly avowed. She permitted me to accompany her
to Hartford, to restore her to her mother, and to declare my wish to
receive her again from her hand. Thus far all was harmony and happiness.
As all my wishes were consistent with virtue and honor, she readily
indulged them. She took apparent pleasure in my company, encouraged my
hopes of a future union, and listened to the tender accents of love.

But the scenes of gayety which invited her attention reversed her
conduct. The delightful hours of mutual confidence, of sentimental
converse, and of the interchange of refined affection were no more.
Instead of these, parties were formed unpleasing to my taste, and every
opportunity was embraced to join in diversions in which she knew I could
not consistently take a share. I, however, acquiesced in her pleasure,
though I sometimes thought myself neglected, and even hinted it to her
mother. The old lady apologized for her daughter, by alleging that she
had been absent for a long time; that her acquaintances were rejoiced
at her return, and welcomed her by striving to promote her amusement.

One of her most intimate friends was married during my stay, and she
appeared deeply interested in the event. She spent several days in
assisting her previous to the celebration. I resided, in the mean time,
at her mamma's, visiting her at her friend's, where Major Sanford, among
others, was received as a guest. Mrs. Sumner acquainted me that she had
prevailed on Miss Wharton to go and spend a few weeks with her at
Boston, whither she was removing, and urged my accompanying them. I
endeavored to excuse myself, as I had been absent from my people a
considerable time, and my return was now expected. But their importunity
was so great, and Eliza's declaration that it would be very agreeable to
her so tempting, that I consented. Here I took lodgings, and spent about
a week, taking every opportunity to converse with Eliza, striving to
discover her real disposition towards me. I mentioned the inconvenience
of visiting her so often as I wished, and suggested my desire to enter,
as soon as might be, into a family relation. I painted, in the most
alluring colors, the pleasures resulting from domestic tranquillity,
mutual confidence, and conjugal affection, and insisted on her declaring
frankly whether she designed to share this happiness with me, and when
it should commence. She owned that she intended to give me her hand,
but when she should be ready she could not yet determine. She pretended
a promise from me to wait her time, to consent that she should share the
pleasures of the fashionable world as long as she chose, &c.

I then attempted to convince her of her mistaken ideas of pleasure; that
the scenes of dissipation, of which she was so passionately fond,
afforded no true enjoyment; that the adulation of the coxcomb could not
give durability to her charms, or secure the approbation of the wise and
good; nor could the fashionable amusements of brilliant assemblies and
crowded theatres furnish the mind with

"That which nothing earthly gives or can destroy--
The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy."

These friendly suggestions, I found, were considered as the theme of a
priest, and my desire to detach her from such empty pursuits as the
selfishness of a lover. She was even offended at my freedom, and warmly
affirmed that no one had a right to arraign her conduct. I mentioned
Major Sanford, who was then in town, and who (though she went to places
of public resort with Mr. and Mrs. Sumner) always met and gallanted her
home. She rallied me upon my jealousy, as she termed it, wished that I
would attend her myself, and then she should need no other gallant. I
answered that I had rather resign that honor to another, but wished, for
her sake, that he might be a gentleman whose character would not
disgrace the company with which he associated. She appeared mortified
and chagrined in the extreme. However, she studiously suppressed her
emotions, and even soothed me with the blandishments of female softness.
We parted amicably. She promised to return soon and prepare for a
compliance with my wishes. I cannot refuse to believe her. I cannot
cease to love her. My heart is in her possession. She has a perfect
command of my passions. Persuasion dwells on her tongue. With all the
boasted fortitude and resolution of our sex, we are but mere machines.
Let love once pervade our breasts, and its object may mould us into any
form that pleases her fancy, or even caprice.

I have just received a letter from Eliza, informing me of her return to
Hartford. To-morrow I shall set out on a visit to the dear girl; for, my
friend, notwithstanding all her foibles, she is very dear to me. Before
you hear from me again I expect that the happy day will be fixed--the
day which shall unite in the-most sacred bands this lovely maid and your
faithful friend,

J. BOYER.


LETTER XL.

TO MR. T. SELBY.

HAMPSHIRE.

I have returned; and the day, indeed, is fixed; but O, how different
from my fond expectations! It is not the day of union, but the day of
final separation; the day which divides me from my charmer; the day
which breaks asunder the bands of love; the day on which my reason
assumes its empire, and triumphs over the arts of a finished coquette.
Congratulate me, my friend, that I have thus overcome my feelings, and
repelled the infatuating wiles of a deceitful girl. I would not be
understood to impeach Miss Wharton's virtue; I mean her chastity.
Virtue, in the common acceptation of the term, as applied to the sex, is
confined to that particular, you know. But in my view, this is of little
importance where all other virtues are wanting.

When I arrived at Mrs. Wharton's, and inquired for Eliza, I was told
that she had rode out, but was soon expected home. An hour after, a
phaeton stopped at the door, from which my fair one alighted, and was
handed into the house by Major Sanford, who immediately took leave. I
met her, and offered my hand, which she received with apparent
tenderness.

When the family had retired after supper, and left us to talk on our
particular affairs, I found the same indecision, the same loathness to
bring our courtship to a period, as formerly. Her previous excuses were
renewed, and her wishes to have a union still longer delayed were
zealously urged. She could not bear the idea of confinement to the cares
of a married life at present, and begged me to defer all solicitation on
that subject to some future day. I found my temper rise, and told her
plainly that I was not thus to be trifled with; that if her regard for
me was sincere, if she really intended to form a connection with me, she
could not thus protract the time, try my patience, and prefer every
other pleasure to the rational interchange of affection, to the calm
delights of domestic life. But in vain did I argue against her false
notions of happiness, in vain did I represent the dangerous system of
conduct which she now pursued, and urge her to accept, before it was too
late, the hand and heart which were devoted to her service. That, she
said, she purposed ere long to do, and hoped amply to reward my faithful
love; but she could not fix the time this evening. She must consider a
little further, and likewise consult her mother. "Is it not Major
Sanford whom you wish to consult, madam?" said I. She blushed, and gave
me no answer. "Tell me, Eliza," I continued, "tell me frankly, if he has
not supplanted me in your affections--if he be not the cause of my being
thus evasively, thus cruelly, treated." "Major Sanford, sir," replied
she, "has done you no harm. He is a particular friend of mine, a polite
gentleman, and an agreeable neighbor, and therefore I treat him with
civility; but he is not so much interested in my concerns as to alter my
disposition towards any other person." "Why," said I, "do you talk of
friendship with a man of his character? Between his society and mine
there is a great contrast. Such opposite pursuits and inclinations
cannot be equally pleasing to the same taste. It is, therefore,
necessary that you renounce the one to enjoy the other; I will give you
time to decide which. I am going to a friend's house to spend the night,
and will call on you to-morrow, if agreeable, and converse with you
further upon the matter." She bowed assent, and I retired.

The next afternoon I went, as agreed, and found her mamma and her alone
in the parlor. She was very pensive, and appeared to have been in tears.
The sight affected me. The idea of having treated her harshly the
evening before disarmed me of my resolution to insist on her decision
that day. I invited her to ride with me and visit a friend, to which
she readily consented. We spent our time agreeably. I forbore to press
her on the subject of our future union, but strove rather to soothe her
mind, and inspire her with sentiments of tenderness towards me. I
conducted her home, and returned early in the evening to my friend's,
who met me at the door, and jocosely told me that he expected that I
should now rob them of their agreeable neighbor. "But," added he, "we
have been apprehensive that you would be rivalled if you delayed your
visit much longer." "I did not suspect a rival," said I. "Who can the
happy man be?" "I can say nothing from personal observation," said he;
"but fame, of late, has talked loudly of Major Sanford and Miss Wharton.
Be not alarmed," continued he, seeing me look grave; "I presume no harm
is intended; the major is a man of gallantry, and Miss Wharton is a gay
lady; but I dare say that your connection will be happy, _if it be
formed_" I noticed a particular emphasis on the word _if_; and, as we
were alone, I followed him with questions till the whole affair was
developed. I informed him of my embarrassment, and he gave me to
understand that Eliza's conduct had, for some time past, been a subject
of speculation in the town; that, formerly, her character was highly
esteemed; but that her intimacy with a man of Sanford's known
libertinism, more especially as she was supposed to be engaged to
another, had rendered her very censurable; that they were often
together; that wherever she went he was sure to follow, as if by
appointment; that they walked, talked, sung, and danced together in all
companies; that some supposed he he would marry her; others, that he
only meditated adding her name to the black catalogue of deluded
wretches, whom he had already ruined!

I rose, and walked the room in great agitation. He apologized for his
freedom; was sorry if he had wounded my feelings; but friendship alone
had induced him frankly to declare the truth, that I might guard against
duplicity and deceit.

I thanked him for his kind intensions; and assured him that I should not
quit the town till I had terminated this affair, in one way or another.

I retired to bed, but sleep was a stranger to my eyes. With the dawn I
rose; and after breakfast walked to Mrs. Wharton's, who informed me,
that Eliza was in her chamber, writing to a friend, but would be down in
a few minutes. I entered into conversation with the old lady on the
subject of her daughter's conduct; hinted my suspicions of the cause,
and declared my resolution of knowing my destiny immediately. She
endeavored to extenuate, and excuse her as much as possible; but frankly
owned that her behavior was mysterious; that no pains had been wanting,
on her part, to alter and rectify it; that she had remonstrated,
expostulated, advised and entreated, as often as occasion required. She
hoped that my resolution would have a good effect, as she knew that her
daughter esteemed me very highly.

In this manner we conversed till the clock struck twelve; and, Eliza not
appearing, I desired her mamma to send up word that I waited to see her.
The maid returned with an answer that she was indisposed, and had lain
down. Mrs. Wharton observed that she had not slept for several nights,
and complained of the headache in the morning. The girl added that she
would wait on Mr. Boyer in the evening. Upon this information I rose,
and abruptly took my leave. I went to dine with a friend, to whom I had
engaged myself the day before; but my mind was too much agitated to
enjoy either the company or the dinner. I excused myself from tarrying
to tea, and returned to Miss Wharton's. On inquiry, I was told that
Eliza had gone to walk in the garden, but desired that no person might
intrude on her retirement. The singularity of the request awakened my
curiosity, and determined me to follow her. I sought her in vain in
different parts of the garden, till, going towards an arbor, almost
concealed from sight by surrounding shrubbery, I discovered her sitting
in close conversation with Major Sanford! My blood chilled in my veins,
and I stood petrified with astonishment at the disclosure of such
baseness and deceit. They both rose in visible confusion. I dared not
trust myself to accost them. My passions were raised, and I feared that
I might say or do something unbecoming my character. I therefore gave
them a look of indignation and contempt, and retreated to the house. I
traversed the parlor hastily, overwhelmed with chagrin and resentment.
Mrs. Wharton inquired the cause. I attempted to tell her, but my tongue
refused utterance. While in this situation, Eliza entered the room. She
was not less discomposed than myself. She sat down at the window and
wept. Her mamma wept likewise. At length she recovered herself, in a
degree, and desired me to sit down. I answered, No, and continued
walking. "Will you," said she, "permit me to vindicate my conduct, and
explain my motives?" "Your conduct," said I, "cannot be vindicated; your
motives need no explanation; they are too apparent. How, Miss Wharton,
have I merited this treatment from you? But I can bear it no longer.
Your indifference to me proceeds from an attachment to another, and,
forgive me if I add, to one who is the disgrace of his own sex and the
destroyer of yours. I have been too long the dupe of your dissimulation
and coquetry--too long has my peace of mind been sacrificed to the arts
of a woman whose conduct has proved her unworthy of my regard;
insensible to love, gratitude, and honor.

"To you, madam," said I, turning to her mother, "I acknowledge my
obligations for your friendship, politeness, and attention. I once hoped
for the privilege of rocking for you the cradle of declining age. I am
deprived of that privilege; but I pray that you may never want a child
whose love and duty shall prove a source of consolation and comfort.

"Farewell. If we never meet again in this life, I hope and trust we
shall in a better--where the parent's eye shall cease to weep for the
disobedience of a child, and the lover's heart to bleed for the
infidelity of his mistress."

I turned to Eliza, and attempted to speak; but her extreme emotion
softened me, and I could not command my voice. I took her hand, and
bowing, in token of an adieu, went precipitately out of the house. The
residence of my friend, with whom I lodged, was at no great distance,
and thither I repaired. As I met him in the entry, I rushed by him, and
betook myself to my chamber. The fever of resentment and the tumult of
passion began now to give place to the softer emotions of the soul. I
found myself perfectly unmanned. I gave free scope to the sensibility
of my heart; and the effeminate relief of tears materially lightened the
load which oppressed me.

After this arduous struggle I went to bed, and slept more calmly than
for several nights before. The next morning I wrote a farewell letter to
Eliza, (a copy of which I shall enclose to you,) and, ordering my horse
to be brought, left town immediately.

My resentment of her behavior has much assisted me in erasing her image
from my breast. In this exertion I have succeeded beyond my most
sanguine expectations. The more I reflect on her temper and disposition,
the more my gratitude is enlivened towards the wise Disposer of all
events for enabling me to break asunder the snares of the deluder. I am
convinced that the gayety and extravagance of her taste, the frivolous
levity of her manners, disqualify her for the station in which I wished
to have placed her. These considerations, together with that resignation
to an overruling Providence which the religion I profess and teach
requires me to cultivate, induce me cheerfully to adopt the following
lines of an ingenious poet:--

"Since all the downward tracts of time
God's watchful eye surveys,
O, who so wise to choose our lot,
Or regulate our ways?

"Since none can doubt his equal love,
Unmeasurably kind,
To his unerring, gracious will
Be every wish, resigned.

"Good when he gives, supremely good;
Not less when he denies;
E'en crosses from his sovereign hand
Are blessings in disguise."

I am, &c.,                 J. BOYER.

TO MISS ELIZA WHARTON.

[_Enclosed in the foregoing_.]

HARTFORD.

Madam: Fearing that my resolution may not be proof against the eloquence
of those charms which has so long commanded me, I take this method of
bidding you a final adieu. I write not as a lover,--that connection
between us is forever dissolved,--but I address you as a friend; as a
friend to your happiness, to your reputation, to your temporal and
eternal welfare. I will not rehearse the innumerable instances of your
imprudence and misconduct which have fallen under my observation. Your
own heart must be your monitor. Suffice it for me to warn you against
the dangerous tendency of so dissipated a life, and to tell you that I
have traced (I believe aright) the cause of your dissimulation and
indifference to me. They are an aversion to the sober, rational, frugal
mode of living to which my profession leads; a fondness for the parade,
the gayety, not to say the licentiousness, of a station calculated to
gratify such a disposition; and a prepossession for Major Sanford,
infused into your giddy mind by the frippery, flattery, and artifice of
that worthless and abandoned man. Hence you preferred a connection with
him, if it could be accomplished; but a doubt whether it could, together
with the advice of your friends, who have kindly espoused my cause, has
restrained you from the avowal of your real sentiments, and led you to
continue your civilities to me. What the result of your coquetry would
have been had I waited for it, I cannot say; nor have I now any desire
or interest to know. I tear from my breast the idea which I have long
cherished of future union and happiness with you in the conjugal state.
I bid a last farewell to these fond hopes, and leave you forever.

For your own sake, however, let me conjure you to review your conduct,
and, before you have advanced beyond the possibility of returning to
rectitude and honor, to restrain your steps from the dangerous path in
which you now tread.

Fly Major Sanford. That man is a deceiver. Trust not his professions.
They are certainly insincere, or he would not affect concealment; he
would not induce you to a clandestine intercourse. Many have been the
victims to his treachery. O Eliza, add not to the number. Banish him
from your society if you wish to preserve your virtue unsullied, your
character unsuspicious. It already begins to depreciate. Snatch it from
the envenomed tongue of slander before it receive an incurable wound.

Many faults have been visible to me, over which my affection once drew a
veil. That veil is now removed; and acting the part of a disinterested
friend, I shall mention some few of them with freedom. There is a levity
in your manners which is inconsistent with the solidity and decorum
becoming a lady who has arrived to years of discretion. There is also an
unwarrantable extravagance betrayed in your dress. Prudence and economy
are such necessary, at least such decent, virtues, that they claim the
attention of every female, whatever be her station or her property. To
these virtues you are apparently inattentive. Too large a portion of
your time is devoted to the adorning of your person.

Think not that I write thus plainly from resentment. No, it is from
benevolence. I mention your foibles, not to reproach you with them, but
that you may consider their nature and effects, and renounce them.

I wish you to regard this letter as the legacy of a friend, and to
improve it accordingly. I shall leave town before you receive it. O, how
different are my sensations at going from what they were when I came!
But I forbear description. Think not, Eliza, that I leave you with
indifference. The conquest is great, the trial more than I can calmly
support; yet the consciousness of duty affords consolation---a duty I
conceive it to be which I owe to myself and to the people of my charge,
who are interested in my future connection.

I wish not for an answer; my resolution is unalterably fixed. But should
you hereafter be convinced of the justice of my conduct, and become a
convert to my advice, I shall be happy to hear it.

That you may have wisdom to keep you from falling, and conduct you
safely through this state of trial to the regions of immortal bliss, is
the fervent prayer of your sincere friend and humble servant,

J. BOYER.


LETTER XLI.

TO MRS. LUCY SUMNER.

HARTFORD.

The retirement of my native home is not so gloomy, since my return from
Boston, as I expected, from the contrast between them. Indeed, the
customs and amusements of this place are materially altered since the
residence of Major Sanford among us. The dull, old-fashioned sobriety
which formerly prevailed is nearly banished, and cheerfulness, vivacity,
and enjoyment are substituted in its stead. Pleasure is now diffused
through all ranks of the people, especially the rich; and surely it
ought to be cultivated, since the wisest of men informs us that a merry
heart "doth good like a medicine." As human life hath many diseases
which require medicines, are we not right in selecting the most
agreeable and palatable? Major Sanford's example has had great influence
upon our society in general; and though some of our old ones think him
rather licentious, yet, for aught I can see, he is as strict an observer
of decorum as the best of them. True, he seldom goes to church; but
what of that? The Deity is not confined to temples made with hands. He
may worship him as devoutly elsewhere, if he chooses; and who has a
right to say he does not?

His return from Boston was but a day or two after mine. He paid me an
early visit, and, indeed, has been very attentive ever since. My mamma
is somewhat precise in her notions of propriety, and, of course, blames
me for associating so freely with him. She says that my engagements to
Mr. Boyer ought to render me more sedate, and more indifferent to the
gallantry of mere pleasure _hunters_, to use her phrase. But I think
otherwise. If I am to become a recluse, let me at least enjoy those
amusements which are suited to my taste a short time first. Why should I
refuse the polite attentions of this gentleman? They smooth the rugged
path of life, and wonderfully accelerate the lagging wheels of time.

Indeed, Lucy, he has an admirable talent for contributing to vary and
increase amusement. We have few hours unimproved. Some new plan of
pleasure and sociability is constantly courting our adoption. He lives
in all the magnificence of a prince: and why should I, who can doubtless
share that magnificence if I please, forego the advantages and
indulgences it offers, merely to gratify those friends who pretend to
be better judges of my happiness than I am myself? I have not yet told
my mamma that he entertains me with the lover's theme, or, at least,
that I listen to it. Yet I must own to you, from whom I have never
concealed an action or idea, that his situation in life charms my
imagination; that the apparent fervor and sincerity of his passion
affect my heart. Yet there is something extremely problematical in his
conduct. He is very urgent with me to dissolve my connection with Mr.
Boyer, and engage not to marry him without his consent, or knowledge, to
say no more. He warmly applauds my wish still longer to enjoy the
freedom and independence of a single state, and professedly adopts it
for his own. While he would disconnect me from another, he mysteriously
conceals his own intentions and views. In conversation with him
yesterday, I plainly told him that his conduct was unaccountable; that,
if his professions and designs were honorable, he could not neglect to
mention them to my mamma; that I should no longer consent to carry on a
clandestine intercourse with him; that I hourly expected Mr. Boyer, whom
I esteemed, and who was the favorite of my friends; and that, unless he
acted openly in this affair before his arrival, I should give my hand to
him.

He appeared thunderstruck at this declaration. All his words and actions
were indicative of the most violent emotions of mind. He entreated me
to recall the sentence; for I knew not, he said, his motives for
secrecy; yet he solemnly swore that they were honorable. I replied in
the words of the poet,--

"Trust not a man; they are by nature cruel,
False, deceitful, treacherous, and inconstant.
When a man talks of love, with caution hear him;
But if he swear, he'll certainly deceive you."

He begged that he might know by what means he had provoked my
suspicions; by what means he had forfeited my confidence. His
importunity vanquished my fortitude; and before we parted, I again
promised to make him acquainted, from time to time, with the progress of
my connection with Mr. Boyer.

Now, my dear friend, I want your advice more than ever. I am
inadvertently embarrassed by this man; and how to extricate myself I
know not. I am sensible that the power is in my hands; but the
disposition (shall I confess it?) is wanting.

"I know the right; and I approve it too;
I know the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue."

I have just received a card from Major Sanford, inviting me to ride
this afternoon. At first I thought of returning a negative answer; but,
recollecting that Mr. Boyer must soon be here, I concluded it best to