For my own part, though fond of women to the greatest degree, I have had, considering my profession and complexion, very few intrigues. I have always had an idea I should some time or other marry, and have been unwilling to bring to a state in which I hoped for happiness from mutual affection, a heart worn out by a course of gallantries: to a contrary conduct is owing most of our unhappy marriages; the woman brings with her all her stock of tenderness, truth, and affection; the man's is exhausted before they meet: she finds the generous delicate tenderness of her soul, not only unreturned, but unobserved; she fancies some other woman the object of his affection, she is unhappy, she pines in secret; he observes her discontent, accuses her of caprice; and her portion is wretchedness for life. If I did not ardently wish your happiness, I should not thus repeatedly combat a prejudice, which, as you have sensibility, will infallibly make the greater part of your life a scene of insipidity and regret. You are right, Jack, as to the savages; the only way to civilize them is to _feminize_ their women; but the task is rather difficult: at present their manners differ in nothing from those of the men; they even add to the ferocity of the latter. You desire to know the state of my heart: excuse me, Jack; you know nothing of love; and we who do, never disclose its mysteries to the prophane: besides, I always chuse a female for the confidante of my sentiments; I hate even to speak of love to one of my own sex. Adieu! I am going a party with half a dozen ladies, and have not another minute to spare. Yours, Ed. Rivers. LETTER 58. To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street. Jan. 28. I every hour, my dear, grow more in love with French manners; there is something charming in being young and sprightly all one's life: it would appear absurd in England to hear, what I have just heard, a fat virtuous lady of seventy toast _Love and Opportunity_ to a young fellow; but 'tis nothing here: they dance too to the last gasp; I have seen the daughter, mother, and grand-daughter, in the same French country dance. They are perfectly right; and I honor them for their good sense and spirit, in determining to make life agreable as long as they can. _A propos_ to age, I am resolved to go home, Lucy; I have found three grey hairs this morning; they tell me 'tis common; this vile climate is at war with beauty, makes one's hair grey, and one's hands red. I won't stay, absolutely. Do you know there is a very pretty fellow here, Lucy, Captain Howard, who has taken a fancy to make people believe he and I are on good terms? He affects to sit by me, to dance with me, to whisper nothing to me, to bow with an air of mystery, and to shew me all the little attentions of a lover in public, though he never yet said a civil thing to me when we were alone.