University of Virginia Library

The Answer.

Your letter—your rattle, rather, came
to hand yesterday. I could not avoid smiling at
your erroneous opinions; and, in my turn, beg
leave to express my wonder at your entertainments
in town. True, we have no plays. We
are not obliged by fashion to sit, half suffocated
in a crowd, for the greater part of the night, to
hear the rantings, and see the extravagant actions
of the buskin heroes, (and those not always

consistent with female modesty to witness!) We
have no card-parties, avowedly formed for the
purpose of killing time! But we have an agreeable
neighbourhood; among which we can easily
collect a social circle; and persons of taste,
politeness and information compose it. Here
we enjoy a rational and enlivening conversation,
which is at once refined and improving. We
have no assemblies, composed of a promiscuous
crowd of gaudy belles and beaux; many of
whom we should despise in a private company,
and deem unworthy our notice. But we have
genteel balls, the company of which is select,
none being admitted but such as do honor to
themselves and each other. The amusement is
not protracted till the yawning listlessness of the
company proclaims their incapacity for enjoyment;
but we retire at a seasonable hour, and
add to the pleasure of the evening that of undisturbed
rest through the night. Of course, we
can rise with the fun, and sip the nectarious
dews, wasted in the aromatic gale. We breakfast
before the heat of the day has brought on
a languor, and deprived us of appetite; after
which, we amuse ourselves with our needles,
books, or music; recline on the sofa, or ramble
in the grove, as fancy or convenience directs.
In the shady bower we enjoy either the luxury
of solitude, or the pleasures of society; while
you are, the whole time, in the midst of hurry
and bustle. Eager in the chase, you fly from
one scene of dissipation to another; but the fatigue
of this ceaseless round, and the exertion of
spirits necessary to support it, render the objects
of pursuit tasteless and insipid.

Which mode of life, yours or mine, do you
now think the most rational, and productive of
the greatest happiness? The boarding school,
which you affect to despise, has, it is true, formed
my taste; and I flatter myself that I shall
never wish it altered.

I shall soon return to town; but not for pleasure.
It is not in crowds that I seek it. Adieu.