more ready to pardon my faults or find excuses for my failings—it is natural to love our friends. I have positively not said one single thing which I intended when I sat down; my motive was to answer your letter, and I have not mentioned my not having received it?—Your opinion of Story’s Poems I think very unjust; as to the _man_, I cannot say, for I know nothing of him, but I think you are too severe upon him; a man who had not a “fibre of refinement in his composition” could never have written some passages in that poem. What is refinement? I thought it was a delicacy of taste which might be acquired, if not any thing in our nature,—true, there are some so organized that they are incapable of receiving a delicate impression, but we won’t say any thing of such beings. I just begin to feel in a mood for answering your letter. What you say of Miss Rice—I hardly know how to refuse the challenge; she possesses no quality above mediocrity, and yet is just what a female ought to be. Now what I would give for a little _Logic_, or for a little skill to support an argument. But I give it up, for tho’ you might not convince me, you would _confound_ me with so many _learned_ observations that my vanity would oblige me to say I was convinced to prevent the mortification of saying I did not understand you. How did you like Mr. Coffin? Write soon and tell me. We expect you to go to the fishing party with us on Tuesday. Mr. Coffin told us you would all come. You must be here by 9 o’clock (not before) (in the morning). My love to the girls, and tell them—no! I’ll tell them myself. ELIZA. To Mr. Moses Porter, Biddeford. Scarborough, June 1st, 1801.