What shall I say now, my friend?  This man to an agreeable person has superadded graceful manners, an amiable temper, and a fortune sufficient to insure the enjoyments of all the pleasing varieties of social life.  Perhaps a gay disposition and a lax education may have betrayed him into some scenes of dissipation.  But is it not an adage generally received, that “a reformed rake makes the best husband”?  My fancy leads me for happiness to the festive haunts of fashionable life.  I am at present, and know not but I ever shall be, too volatile for a confinement to domestic avocations and sedentary pleasures.  I dare not, therefore, place myself in a situation where these must be indispensable.  Mr. Boyer’s person and character are agreeable.  I really esteem the man.  My reason and judgment, as I have observed before, declare for a connection with him, as a state of tranquillity and rational happiness.  But the idea of relinquishing those delightful amusements and flattering attentions which wealth and equipage bestow is painful.  Why were not the virtues of the one and the graces and affluence of the other combined?  I should then have been happy indeed.  But, as the case now stands, I am loath to give up either; being doubtful which will conduce most to my felicity.

Pray write me impartially; let me know your real sentiments, for I rely greatly upon your opinion.  I am, &c.,

ELIZA WHARTON.

LETTER XXVII.

TO THE REV.  MR. BOYER.

NEW HAVEN.

I am quite a convert to Pope’s assertion, that

  “Every woman is at heart a rake.”

How else can we account for the pleasure which they evidently receive from the society, the flattery, the caresses of men of that character?  Even the most virtuous of them seem naturally prone to gayety, to pleasure, and, I had almost said, to dissipation.  How else shall we account for the existence of this disposition in your favorite fair?  It cannot be the result of her education.  Such a one as she has received is calculated to give her a very different turn of mind.  You must forgive me, my friend, for I am a little vexed and alarmed on your-account.  I went last evening to the assembly, as I told you in my last that I intended.  I was purposely without a partner, that I might have the liberty to exercise my gallantry as circumstances should invite.  Indeed I must own that my particular design was to observe Miss Wharton’s movements, being rather inclined to jealousy in your behalf.  She was handed into the assembly room by Major Sanford.  The brilliance of their appearance, the levity of their manners, and the contrast of their characters I found to be a general subject of speculation.  I endeavored to associate with Miss Wharton, but found it impossible to detach her a moment from the coxcomb who attended her.  If she has any idea of a connection with you, why does she continue to associate with another, especially with one of so opposite a description?  I am seriously afraid that there is more intimacy between them than there ought to be, considering the encouragement she has given you.