To Colonel Bellville.
Thursday Afternoon.
O Ciel! I faint! what a world do we
live in! How many unavoidable enemies
to enjoyment! It is sometimes too
cold, sometimes too hot to be happy! One
is never pleased a week together. I shall
absolutely grow a snarling philosopher, and
find fault with every thing.
These unconscionable lovers have dragged
me cross an open meadow, exposed to the
sun's burning rays–no mercy on my complexion
–Lady Julia sure, for her own sake,
–yet she is laughing at my distress. I am
too languid to say more.–Oh! for a cooling
breeze!
"The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill."
We are going to have an addition to our
group of friends: Emily Howard, daughter
to the late dean of — , a distant relation,
and rector of the parish, being expected
to-morrow at Belmont: she is Lady Julia's
friend in the most emphatical sense of the
word. Do you know, I feel extremely inclined
to be jealous of her; and am angry
with myself for such meanness?
A. Wilmot.
Tuesday, 3d.