I am not however certain it was the ceremony which affected me thus strongly; it was impossible not to feel for this amiable victim; never was there an object more interesting; her form was elegance itself; her air and motion animated and graceful; the glow of pleasure was on her cheek, the fire of enthusiasm in her eyes, which are the finest I ever saw:  never did I see joy so livelily painted on the countenance of the happiest bride; she seem’d to walk in air; her whole person look’d more than human.

An enemy to every species of superstition, I must however allow it to be least destructive to true virtue in your gentle sex, and therefore to be indulg’d with least danger:  the superstition of men is gloomy and ferocious; it lights the fire, and points the dagger of the assassin; whilst that of women takes its color from the sex; is soft, mild, and benevolent; exerts itself in acts of kindness and charity, and seems only substituting the love of God to that of man.

Who can help admiring, whilst they pity, the foundress of the Ursuline convent, Madame de la Peltrie, to whom the very colony in some measure owes its existence? young, rich and lovely; a widow in the bloom of life, mistress of her own actions, the world was gay before her, yet she left all the pleasures that world could give, to devote her days to the severities of a religion she thought the only true one:  she dar’d the dangers of the sea, and the greater dangers of a savage people; she landed on an unknown shore, submitted to the extremities of cold and heat, of thirst and hunger, to perform a service she thought acceptable to the Deity.  To an action like this, however mistaken the motive, bigotry alone will deny praise:  the man of candor will only lament that minds capable of such heroic virtue are not directed to views more conducive to their own and the general happiness.

I am unexpectedly call’d this moment, my dear Lucy, on some business to Montreal, from whence you shall hear from me.

      Adieu! 
          Ed. Rivers.

LETTER 6.

To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

Montreal, July 9.

I am arriv’d, my dear, and have brought my heart safe thro’ such a continued fire as never poor knight errant was exposed to; waited on at every stage by blooming country girls, full of spirit and coquetry, without any of the village bashfulness of England, and dressed like the shepherdesses of romance.  A man of adventure might make a pleasant journey to Montreal.

The peasants are ignorant, lazy, dirty, and stupid beyond all belief; but hospitable, courteous, civil; and, what is particularly agreeable, they leave their wives and daughters to do the honors of the house:  in which obliging office they acquit themselves with an attention, which, amidst every inconvenience apparent (tho’ I am told not real) poverty can cause, must please every guest who has a soul inclin’d to be pleas’d:  for my part, I was charm’d with them, and eat my homely fare with as much pleasure as if I had been feasting on ortolans in a palace.  Their conversation is lively and amusing; all the little knowledge of Canada is confined to the sex; very few, even of the seigneurs, being able to write their own names.