Tell Miss Tappan I had the honor of dancing a voluntary dance with Mr. Orr at the last assembly,—he attracted much attention by his irregular expression—“The floor was very _unyielding_,” &c., &c. I did not tell you any one’s adventures but my own on that eventful night. Poor Mr. Orr, impatient to get home, plunged into the snow without waiting for a carriage, and unfortunately turning up street instead of down, got most to Mr. Vaughn’s before he discovered his mistake, and was obliged to turn round and worry his way back again, he was half dead when he got to his lodgings. Eunice Deering was tumbled over and when Mr. Little took her from the carriage[25]. * * * * * Portland, May 23, 1802. I receive your apology and am satisfied—’tis not the manner of making apologies I think most of, but that long dissertation on the subject continually obtrudes itself on your mind whenever you feel conscious an apology is necessary, but while I am convinced nothing but the fear of appearing inconsistent prevents your making these said apologies, I will not complain—let them come “edgeways” or any other way—so long as I am convinced you feel their necessity. But I have been pondering on your new plan of life, yet I confess it does not appear to me so delightful as to you, it sounds well,—tickles the fancy,—cuts a pretty figure on paper and would form a delightful chapter for a novel. Our novelists have worn the pleasures of rural life threadbare, every lovesick swain imagines that with the mistress of his heart he could leave the noisy tumultuous scenes of life and in the shades of rural retirement feel all the delightful serenity and peace ascribed to the golden age. The Philosopher and the Poet fly to this imaginary heaven with as much enthusiasm as the lover. Here, say they, we can contemplate the beauty and sublimity of nature free from interruption; here the reflecting mind can find endless subjects for contemplation! here all is peace and love! no discord can find a place among these innocent and happy beings,—they live but to promote the happiness of each other and their every action teems with benevolence and love. Yet let us judge for ourselves,—we all have seen what the pleasures of rural life are, and whatever Poets may have ascribed to it, we must know there is as much depravity and consequently as much discontent in the inhabitants of a country village as in the most populous city. They are generally ignorant, illiterate, without knowledge to discover the real blessings they enjoy by comparing them with others, continually looking to those above them with envy and discontent and imagine their share of happiness is proportioned to their rank and power. I am convinced that a country life is more calculated to produce that security and happiness we are all in pursuit of than any other, but those who have ever been accustomed to it have no relish for