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LETTER XXXIX.
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Page 107

LETTER XXXIX.


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 loth 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


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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 gaiety, which invited her
attention, reversed her conduct. The delightful
hours of mutual confidence, of sentimental
converse, and of the interchange of resined 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
apologised for her daughter, by alledging 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 amnsement.

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.
Summer acquainted me that she had prevailed on
Miss Wharton to go and spend a few weeks
with her at Boston, whither she was removing;


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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 colours 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 sashionable
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 sond,
afforded no true enjoyment; that the adulation
of the coxcomb could not give durability to her
charms, or secure the approbation of the wife and
good; nor could the fashionable amusements


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of brilliant assemblies, and crouded theatres
furnish the mind with

“That which nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart felt 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 mortisied 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 resuse 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


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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 soibles,
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.