After Horatio’s recovery I sat down one evening to write you, but I had only written the day of the month, when a most violent clap of thunder (the same that struck Mrs. Horper’s house) shook the pen from my hand and my desk from my lap. I do not imagine even by this omen that I offend the strictest laws of virtue and propriety by continuing to write you, therefore should something equally powerful wrest the pen from my hand, depend upon it I will seize it with renewed vigor and dare assure you of my esteem, &c., &c. ELIZA. I shall go to Wiscassett on Monday; expect to hear from me after I return to Bath; while there I shall have no time. I expect to have important communications to forward—a certain pair of sparkling eyes, which are far more eloquent than her tongue! Now I have half a mind to be affronted. I know at this time, as soon as you have read this you are tumbling it into your pocket as waste paper to ponder on the brilliancy of said eyes. Is it true? Well, I shall see them soon and shall be tempted to ask some atonement for the damages I may suffer. Write me often while I am here, it is your _duty_. Mr. Moses Porter, Biddeford. By Mrs. King. To Mr. Moses Porter at Biddeford. I want to write, yet I don’t want to write to you, my _ceremonious_ Cousin, but at this time I can think of nobody else and am _compelled_ to address you. My last was dated from Bath, so is this; since then I have made a visit to Wiscassett. Oh I believe—yes I did write a few lines from there by Uncle Thatcher—I had forgotten that I wrote any more than the letter I finished before I left Bath. I wish I could give you an account of my spending my fortnight at Wiscasset, which would amuse you as much as the reality did me, but that is impossible. I have seen so many new faces—(I was going to say new characters, but they were generally such as we see every day), so many handsome ladies, so many fine men, indeed I have seen a little of everything. Mr. Wild and Mr. Davis (of Portland) kept at Mrs. Lee’s. Mr. Wild is a most charming man, and sensible and genteel, apparently has one of the mildest and most amiable dispositions in the world. Mr. Davis you know. There was a Miss P—— spent 2 or 3 days at Mrs. Lee’s. She was—was—I can’t tell you what; you may have heard of her, celebrated for her wit, lost a lover by exercising it rather too severely; poor soul! it was a sad affair; she has at length become sensible of the impropriety of her conduct, and now hopes to atone for it by flattering every gentleman she sees—time will show whether this plan will succeed. She talks incessantly, laughs always at what she says herself. At table, when the judges, lawyers, and a dozen gentlemen and ladies were seated, Miss P—— engrossed all the conversation. I defy any person to be in the room with her and not be compelled to converse with her, not by the irresistible force of her