all
the philosophic dignity and manly composure of his countenance, very
coldly expressed his concern, and called another subject: your brother
changed color, his eyes glistened; he took the first opportunity to
leave the room, he sought these poor people, he found, he relieved
them; which we discovered by accident a month after.

The weather, tho' cold beyond all that you in England can form an
idea of, is yet mild to what it has been the last five or six days; we
are going to Quebec, to church.

Two o'clock.

Emily and I have been talking religion all the way home: we are both
mighty good girls, as girls go in these degenerate days; our
grandmothers to be sure--but it's folly to look back.

We have been saying, Lucy, that 'tis the strangest thing in the
world people should quarrel about religion, since we undoubtedly all
mean the same thing; all good minds in every religion aim at pleasing
the Supreme Being; the means we take differ according to the country
where we are born, and the prejudices we imbibe from education; a
consideration which ought to inspire us with kindness and indulgence to
each other.

If we examine each other's sentiments with candor, we shall find
much less difference in essentials than we imagine;

"Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
One great, one good, one general Lord of all."

There is, I think, a very pretty Sunday reflexion for you, Lucy.

You must know, I am extremely religious; and for this amongst other
reasons, that I think infidelity a vice peculiarly contrary to the
native softness of woman: it is bold, daring, masculine; and I should
almost doubt the sex of an unbeliever in petticoats.

Women are religious as they are virtuous, less from principles
founded on reasoning and argument, than from elegance of mind, delicacy
of moral taste, and a certain quick perception of the beautiful and
becoming in every thing.

This instinct, however, for such it is, is worth all the tedious
reasonings of the men; which is a point I flatter myself you will not
dispute with me.

Monday, Jan. 5.

This is the first day I have ventured in an open carriole; we have
been running a race on the snow, your brother and I against Emily and
Fitzgerald: we conquered from Fitzgerald's complaisance to Emily. I
shall like it mightily, well wrapt up: I set off with a crape over my
face to keep off the cold, but in three minutes it was a cake of solid
ice, from my breath which froze upon i