Your affectionate Emily Rivers. LETTER 205. To Captain Fitzgerald. Bellfield, Oct. 24. Some author has said, "The happiness of the next world, to the virtuous, will consist in enjoying the society of minds like their own." Why then should we not do our best to possess as much as possible of this happiness here? You will see this is a preface to a very earnest request to see Captain Fitzgerald and the lovely Bell immediately at our farm: take notice, I will not admit even business as an excuse much longer. I am just come from a walk in the wood behind the house, with my mother and Emily; I want you to see it before it loses all its charms; in another fortnight, its present variegated foliage will be literally _humbled in the dust_. There is something very pleasing in this season, if it did not give us the idea of the winter, which is approaching too fast. The dryness of the air, the soft western breeze, the tremulous motion of the falling leaves, the rustling of those already fallen under our feet, their variety of lively colors, give a certain spirit and agreable fluctuation to the scene, which is unspeakably pleasing. By the way, we people of warm imaginations have vast advantages over others; we scorn to be confined to present scenes, or to give attention to such trifling objects as times and seasons. I already anticipate the spring; see the woodbines and wild roses bloom in my grove, and almost catch the gale of perfume. Twelve o'clock. I have this moment received your letter. I am sorry for what you tell me of Miss H----; whose want of art has led her into indiscretions. 'Tis too common to see the most innocent, nay, even the most laudable actions censured by the world; as we cannot, however, eradicate the prejudices of others, it is wisdom to yield to them in things which are indifferent. One ought to conform to, and respect the customs, as well as the laws and religion of our country, where they are not contrary to virtue, and to that moral sense which heaven has imprinted on our souls; where they are contrary, every generous mind will despise them. I agree with you, my dear friend, that two persons who love, not only _seem_, but really are, handsomer to each other than to the rest of the world. When we look at those we ardently love, a new softness steals unperceived into the eyes, the countenance is more animated, and the whole form has that air of tender languor which has such charms for sensible minds. To prove the truth of this, my Emily approaches, fair as the rising morn, led by the hand of the Graces; she sees her lover, and every charm is redoubled; an involuntary smile, a blush of pleasure, speak a passion, which is the pride of my soul. Even her voice, melodious as it is by nature, is softened when she addresses her happy Rivers. She comes to ask my attendance on her and my mother; they are going to pay a morning visit a few miles off. Adieu! tell the little Bell I kiss her hand.