Last evening I was out at Broads;[20] we had only 7 in our party—a very pleasant one. Jewett, Horatio, William Weeks, and Charles Little were our beaux. Miss Weeks, Miss Boardman (from Exeter), and myself, the ladies. Mr. Little is engaged to Miss Boardman; he is an open, honest, unaffected, plain, _clever_ fellow. She has a pleasant face, an open guileless heart, plain unaffected manners, a clumsy shape, easy in company—but it is rather the ease which a calm, even temper produces, than that which is acquired in polite circles. I think they are as much alike as possible and ’twill be a pleasant couple. We played cards, talked and wrote crambo; after we had scribbled the backs of two packs of cards, cut half of them up, and eat our supper, we set out for home, about one o’clock. You say in your last that if reports are true, I am on the highway to matrimony,—you know what I always said with regard to these things; if they are true, well and good—if they are not, let them take their course, they will be shortlived. I despise the conduct of those girls who think that every man who pays them any attention is seriously in love with them, and begin to bridle up, look conscious, fearful lest every word the poor fellow utters should be a declaration of love. I have no idea that every gentleman that has a particular partiality for a lady thinks seriously of being connected with her, and I think any lady puts herself in a most awkward situation to appear in constant fear or expectation that the gentleman is going to make love to her. I despise coquetry,—every lady says the same, you will say,—but if I know myself at all—my heart readily assents to its truth—I think no lady has a right to encourage hopes that she means never to gratify, but I think she is much to blame if she considers these little attentions as a proof of love; they often mean nothing, and should be treated as such. The gentleman in question I own pays me more attention than any other gentleman, yet I say sincerely, I don’t think he means any thing more than to please his fancy for the present. I pride myself upon my sincerity, and if I ever am engaged, I trust it will be to one whom I shall not be ashamed to acknowledge. Our intimacy has been of long standing. He and Enoch Jones were Martha’s most intimate acquaintance, they were there almost every evening. Here comes Enoch and William [Weeks], we used to say as soon as we heard the knocker in the evening. I was always at the Doctor’s a great part of the time I spent in Portland, I could not but be intimate with them. I liked them both, they were pleasant companions, and I was always glad to see them come in;—since that time, Enoch has been gone most of the time, and William has been left alone;—true, he has this winter been more attentive to me than usual; he lent me books, drawings, and music; he used often to be my gallant home from parties if I walked, and if I rode help me to the