The History of Emily Montague Part 53

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.

I have but one objection; if Fitzgerald should take a fancy to prefer the tender to the lively, I should be in some danger: there is something very seducing in her eyes, I a.s.sure you.

LETTER 172.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Kamaraskas, Aug. 14.

By Madame Des Roches, who is going on sh.o.r.e, I write two or three lines, to tell you we have got thus far, and have a fair wind; she will send it immediately to Quebec, to be put on board any s.h.i.+p going, that you may have the greater variety of chances to hear of me.

There is a French lady on board, whose superst.i.tion bids fair to amuse us; she has thrown half her little ornaments over-board for a wind, and has promised I know not how many votive offerings of the same kind to St. Joseph, the patron of Canada, if we get safe to land; on which I shall only observe, that there is nothing so like ancient absurdity as modern: she has cla.s.sical authority for this manner of playing the fool. Horace, when afraid on a voyage, having, if my memory quotes fair, vowed

"His dank and dropping weeds To the stern G.o.d of sea."

The boat is ready, and Madame Des Roches going; I am very unwilling to part with her; and her present concern at leaving me would be very flattering, if I did not think the remembrance of your brother had the greatest share in it.

She has wrote four or five letters to him, since she came on board, very tender ones I fancy, and destroyed them; she has at last wrote a meer complimentary kind of card, only thanking him for his offers of service; yet I see it gives her pleasure to write even this, however cold and formal; because addressed to him: she asked me, if I thought there was any impropriety in her writing to him, and whether it would not be better to address herself to Emily. I smiled at her simplicity, and she finished her letter; she blushed and looked down when she gave it me.

She is less like a sprightly French widow, than a foolish English girl, who loves for the first time.

But I suppose, when the heart is really touched, the feelings of all nations have a pretty near resemblance: it is only that the French ladies are generally more coquets, and less inclined to the romantic style of love, than the English; and we are, therefore, surprized when we find in them this trembling sensibility.

There are exceptions, however, to all rules; and your little Bell seems, in point of love, to have changed countries with Madame Des Roches.

The gale encreases, it flutters in the sails; my fair friend is summoned; the captain chides our delay.

Adieu! _ma chere Madame Des Roches_. I embrace her; I feel the force of its being _for the last time_. I am afraid she feels it yet more strongly than I do: in parting with the last of his friends, she seems to part with her Rivers for ever.

One look more at the wild graces of nature I leave behind.

Adieu! Canada! adieu! sweet abode of the wood-nymphs! never shall I cease to remember with delight the place where I have pa.s.sed so many happy hours.

Heaven preserve my dear Lucy, and give prosperous gales to her friends!

Your faithful A. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 173.

To Miss Montague.

Isle of Bic, Aug. 16.

You are little obliged to me, my dear, for writing to you on s.h.i.+p-board; one of the greatest miseries here, being the want of employment: I therefore write for my own amus.e.m.e.nt, not yours.

We have some French ladies on board, but they do not resemble Madame Des Roches. I am weary of them already, though we have been so few days together.

The wind is contrary, and we are at anchor under this island; Fitzgerald has proposed going to dine on sh.o.r.e: it looks excessively pretty from the s.h.i.+p.

Seven in the evening.

We are returned from Bic, after pa.s.sing a very agreable day.

We dined on the gra.s.s, at a little distance from the sh.o.r.e, under the shelter of a very fine wood, whose form, the trees rising above each other in the same regular confusion, brought the dear shades of Silleri to our remembrance.

We walked after dinner, and picked rasberries, in the wood; and in our ramble came unexpectedly to the middle of a visto, which, whilst some s.h.i.+ps of war lay here, the sailors had cut through the island.

From this situation, being a rising ground, we could see directly through the avenue to both sh.o.r.es: the view of each was wildly majestic; the river comes finely in, whichever way you turn your sight; but to the south, which is more sheltered, the water just trembling to the breeze, our s.h.i.+p which had put all her streamers out, and to which the tide gave a gentle motion, with a few scattered houses, faintly seen amongst the trees at a distance, terminated the prospect, in a manner which was inchanting.

I die to build a house on this island; it is pity such a sweet spot should be uninhabited: I should like excessively to be Queen of Bic.

Fitzgerald has carved my name on a maple, near the sh.o.r.e; a pretty piece of gallantry in a husband, you will allow: perhaps he means it as taking possession for me of the island.

We are going to cards. Adieu! for the present.

Aug. 18.

'Tis one of the loveliest days I ever saw: we are fis.h.i.+ng under the Magdalen islands; the weather is perfectly calm, the sea just dimpled, the sun-beams dance on the waves, the fish are playing on the surface of the water: the island is at a proper distance to form an agreable point of view; and upon the whole the scene is divine.

There is one house on the island, which, at a distance, seems so beautifully situated, that I have lost all desire of fixing at Bic: I want to land, and go to the house for milk, but there is no good landing place on this side; the island seems here to be fenced in by a regular wall of rock.

A breeze springs up; our fis.h.i.+ng is at an end for the present: I am afraid we shall not pa.s.s many days so agreably as we have done this. I feel horror at the idea of so soon losing sight of land, and launching on the _vast Atlantic_.

Adieu! yours, A. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 174.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Aug. 26, at Sea.

We have just fallen in with a s.h.i.+p from New York to London, and, as it is a calm, the master of it is come on board; whilst he is drinking a bottle of very fine madeira, which Fitzgerald has tempted him with on purpose to give me this opportunity, as it is possible he may arrive first, I will write a line, to tell my dear Lucy we are all well, and hope soon to have the happiness of telling her so in person; I also send what I scribbled before we lost sight of land; for I have had no spirits to write or do any thing since.

There is inexpressible pleasure in meeting a s.h.i.+p at sea, and renewing our commerce with the human kind, after having been so absolutely separated from them. I feel strongly at this moment the inconstancy of the species: we naturally grow tired of the company on board our own s.h.i.+p, and fancy the people in every one we meet more agreable.

For my part, this spirit is so powerful in me, that I would gladly, if I could have prevailed on my father and Fitzgerald, have gone on board with this man, and pursued our voyage in the New York s.h.i.+p. I have felt the same thing on land in a coach, on seeing another pa.s.s.

We have had a very unpleasant pa.s.sage hitherto, and weather to fright a better sailor than your friend: it is to me astonis.h.i.+ng, that there are men found, and those men of fortune too, who can fix on a sea life as a profession.

How strong must be the love of gain, to tempt us to embrace a life of danger, pain, and misery; to give up all the beauties of nature and of art, all the charms of society, and separate ourselves from mankind, to ama.s.s wealth, which the very profession takes away all possibility of enjoying!