ABSTRACT
Rejoice with me, my dear Dubois, for all is accomplished, and Zilia is mine. A fortnight is past since I received every worldly bliss, in receiving her. The day was remarkably fine; the Sun seemed to display all his glory, as a compliment to her who was once stiled his daughter, the innocence of whose countenance made her still appear like a virgin of that luminary. The simplicity of her dress corresponded with her looks; it was of white Indian taffety; 112 and all together, she looked and moved an angel.
