To the Chevalier Dubois, at Malta.

You tell me, my dear friend, you now wish to hear something of my own affairs; but of them I have nothing new to say. Our little circle of friends divide their time between reading, walking, and conversation; I mean in general. Music comes in for its share; in which science, we have variety, sufficient to please every taste. My sister, whose present happy circumstances suit with the vivacity of her mind, deals in the sprightly. Poor Maria, all tender and melancholy, like her own feelings. My lovely Indian (who is now become a true convert to Christianity) is all sublime, and in the most melodious tone of voice, chaunts forth divine songs, in praise of the Deity, and his works; whilst I and my brother, are entertained by each alternately. But we are not such selfish, unsociable creatures, as to shut out the rest of the world entirely, but receive and return visits, at stated periods, so as not to be looked on in a disagreeable light by the neighbouring gentry, among whom some are pleasing enough.

The Abbé de V. is one of our greatest intimates, whose knowledge of the belles lettres, and fine taste in all works of genius, makes him very agreeable. He is the only one, whom we admit of our select party; when we meet, on an evening, in a delightful grove in the garden, where the height, and thickness of the trees exclude every other object, which is indeed what we wish; since, whenever the weather permits, we employ the hours from four to six, in all the luxury which books, and unreserved conversation can give. One of the company is deputed as reader, while the rest sit attentively to hear, till they find themselves all sufficiently interested, to deliver their opinions on what has been read: and here, though Zilia always gives hers with diffidence, yet is it such, as in general every one joins to approve and admire.