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Foster, Hannah (Webster), 1759-1840 [1797], The coquette, or, The history of Eliza Wharton: a novel, founded on fact (Samuel Etheridge, Boston) [word count] [eaf104].
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LETTER V. [figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

TO MISS LUCY FREEMAN.
New-Haven.

These bewitching charms of mine
have a tendency to keep my mind in a &longs;tate of
perturbation. I am &longs;o pe&longs;tered with the&longs;e admirers;
not that I am &longs;o very hand&longs;ome neither;
but I dont know how it is, I am certainly
very much the ta&longs;te of the other &longs;ex. Followed,
flattered, and care&longs;&longs;ed; I have cards and
compliments in profu&longs;ion. But I mu&longs;t try to
be &longs;erious; for I have, alas! one &longs;erious lover.
As I promi&longs;ed you to be particular in my writing,
I &longs;uppo&longs;e I mu&longs;t proceed methodically.
Ye&longs;terday we had a party to dine. Mr. Boyer
was of the number. His attention was immediately
engro&longs;&longs;ed; and I &longs;oon perceived that
every word, every action, and every look was
&longs;tudied to gain my approbation. As he &longs;at
next me at dinner, his a&longs;&longs;iduity and politene&longs;s
were plea&longs;ing; and as we walked together afterwards,
his conver&longs;ation was improving. Mine
was &longs;entimental and &longs;edate; perfectly adapted
to the ta&longs;te of my gallant. Nothing, however,
was &longs;aid particularly expre&longs;&longs;ive of his apparent
wi&longs;hes. I &longs;tudiou&longs;ly avoided every kind of

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discourse which might lead to this topic. I wi&longs;h
not for a declaration from any one, e&longs;pecially
from one whom I could not repul&longs;e and do
not intend to encourage at pre&longs;ent. His conversation,
&longs;o &longs;imilar to what I had often heard
from a &longs;imilar character, brought a decea&longs;ed
friend to mind, and rendered me &longs;omewhat pensive.
I retired directly after &longs;upper. Mr. Boyer
had ju&longs;t taken leave.

Mrs. Richman came into my chamber as
&longs;he was pa&longs;&longs;ing to her own. Excu&longs;e my intrusion,
Eliza, &longs;aid &longs;he; I thought I would ju&longs;t &longs;tep
in and a&longs;k you if you have pa&longs;&longs;ed a plea&longs;ant day?

Perfectly &longs;o, madam; and I have now retired
to protract the enjoyment by recollection.
What, my dear, is your opinion of our favorite
Mr. Boyer? Declaring him your favorite,
madam, is &longs;ufficient to render me partial to him.
But to be frank, independent of that, I think
him an agreeable man. Your heart, I presume,
is now free? Yes, and I hope it
will long remain &longs;o. Your friends, my dear,
&longs;olicitous for your welfare, wi&longs;h to &longs;ee you suitably
and agreeably connected. I hope my
friends will never again interpo&longs;e in my concnerns
of that nature. You, madam, have
have ever known my heart, are &longs;en&longs;ible, that had
the Almighty &longs;pared life, in a certain in&longs;tance
I mu&longs;t have &longs;acrificed my own happine&longs;s, or incurred
their cen&longs;ure. I am young, gay, volatile.
A melancholy event has lately extricated
me from tho&longs;e &longs;hackles, which parental

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authority had impo&longs;ed on my mind. Let me then
enjoy that freedom which I &longs;o highly prize. Let
me have opportunity, unbia&longs;&longs;ed by opinion, to
gratify my natural di&longs;po&longs;ition in a participation
of tho&longs;e plea&longs;ures which youth and innocence
afford. Of &longs;uch plea&longs;ures, no one, my dear,
would wi&longs;h to deprive you. But beware, Eliza!—
Though &longs;trowed with flowers, when contemplated
by your lively imagination, it is, after
all, a &longs;lippery, thorny path. The round of fashionable
di&longs;&longs;ipation is dangerous. A phantom
is often pur&longs;ued, which leaves its deluded
votary the real form of wretchedne&longs;s. She
&longs;poke with an empha&longs;is, and taking up her
candle, wi&longs;hed me a good night. I had not
power to return the compliment. Something
&longs;eemingly prophetic in her looks and expressions,
ca&longs;t a momentary gloom upon my mind!
But I de&longs;pi&longs;e tho&longs;e contracted ideas which consine
virtue to a cell. I have no notion of becoming
a reclu&longs;e. Mrs. Richman has ever
been a beloved friend of mine; yet I always
thought her rather prudi&longs;h. Adieu,

Eliza Wharton.

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Foster, Hannah (Webster), 1759-1840 [1797], The coquette, or, The history of Eliza Wharton: a novel, founded on fact (Samuel Etheridge, Boston) [word count] [eaf104].
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