I have this moment a large packet of letters for Emily from Mrs. Melmoth, which I intend to take the care of myself, as I hope to be in England almost as soon as this. Good morrow! Yours ever, &c. A. Fitzgerald. Three o'clock. I am just come from visiting the nuns; they expressed great concern at my leaving Canada, and promised me their prayers on my voyage; for which proof of affection, though a good protestant, I thanked them very sincerely. I wished exceedingly to have brought some of them away with me; my nun, as they call the amiable girl I saw take the veil, paid me the flattering tribute of a tear at parting; her fine eyes had a concern in them, which affected me extremely. I was not less pleased with the affection the late superior, my good old countrywoman, expressed for me, and her regret at seeing me _for the last time_. Surely there is no pleasure on earth equal to that of being beloved! I did not think I had been such a favorite in Canada: it is almost a pity to leave it; perhaps nobody may love me in England. Yes, I believe Fitzgerald will; and I have a pretty party enough of friends in your family. Adieu! I shall write a line the day we embark, by another ship, which may possibly arrive before us. LETTER 171. To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall. Silleri, Aug. 11. We embark to-morrow, and hope to see you in less than a month, if this fine wind continues. I am just come from Montmorenci, where I have been paying my devotions to the tutelary deities of the place _for the last time_. I had only Fitzgerald with me; we visited every grotto on the lovely banks, where we dined; kissed every flower, raised a votive altar on the little island, poured a libation of wine to the river goddess; and, in short, did every thing which it became good heathens to do. We stayed till day-light began to decline, which, with the idea of _the last time_, threw round us a certain melancholy solemnity; a solemnity which "Deepen'd the murmur of the falling floods, And breath'd a browner horror on the woods." I have twenty things to do, and but a moment to do them in. Adieu! I am called down; it is to Madame Des Roches: she is very obliging to come thus far to see me. 12th. We go on board at one; Madame Des Roches goes down with us as far as her estate, where her boat is to fetch her on shore. She has made me a present of a pair of extreme pretty bracelets; has sent your brother an elegant sword-knot, and Emily a very beautiful cross of diamonds. I don't believe she would be sorry if we were to run away with her to England: I protest I am half inclined; it is pity such a woman should be hid all her life in the woods of Canada: besides, one might convert her you know; and, on a religious principle, a little deviation from rules is allowable. Your brother is an admirable missionary amongst unbelieving ladies: I really think I shall carry her off; if it is only for the good of her soul.