LETTER XXIV.
HARRIOT to MYRA.
Mrs. Francis is not altogether
satisfied with her journey to this part of the
country—She does not delight to brood
over sorrow—She flies from the house of
mourning, to scenes of dissipation, congenial
to her temper and disposition—and, like
the rest of the world, bears the misfortunes of
her friends with a most christian fortitude:
The melancholy aspect of affairs here, will
therefore shorten our visit—so you may expect
us at
Boston in a few days.
MY faithful lover (with whom I will certaily
make you acquainted in a short time)
continues to write to me in very passionate
and fentimental strains. His laft letter
proves him to be a tolerable maker of rhymes,
and I inclose it[1]
for your entertainment.
I am, my dear,
Your most affectionate Friend.
