preaches to the first, and Mr. H-, settled by subscription, to the last. B is a sensible, clever man, but very wicked; he riots and swears as bold an oath as any soldier in town. I was only once at his church: from a man of his character I could receive no benefit. I am amazed how he dare presume to address a holy and just God with the freedom he does, or recommend religion to others, when he, by his conduct, seems to despise it! O, it is shocking! and he too, an old gray-headed man! Mr. H has not B's parts, but is a worthy pious man—the Doctor and I attend his preaching; indeed, were he episcopalian and B― presbyterian, I should, for I could not bear that my prayers to the Almighty should pass through the lips of such a man. Both of them preach in ca

tholic churches-we have no other—and their service is over before ours begin. I was a good deal startled, at first, at the images; indeed, I am not quite reconciled to worshipping God in one of these houses yet; but I hope it is only a weakness, and that the Almighty, who knows the heart, will not be offended at their being there, seeing we take no notice of them. It is not very fashion

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able to go to church here, but, to my great satisfaction, the Doctor attends regularly.

The gentlemen here are very sober-neither can I say they swear; and if they would regard the Sabbath, and attend public worship, I could find no fault with their conduct.

I have read Doddridge's Rise and Progress. I little knew what a treasure Mr. Ellis put into my hand when he gave me that book. I cannot say it is my daily companion, but I can, with truth gay, it is often so. Let my mind be in ever so giddy and thoughtless a frame, or ever so much busied in those amusements I am engaged in, it makes me serious, and gives my thoughts a different turn; there is scarce any situation the mind can be in, but it will find something suitable there. I must not, however, make remarks on the particular contents of it; it would occupy more paper than I have to spare. I would have you purchase the book. I am sure you would like it, and, when you have read it, it will be matter of great satisfaction to you, that John and I have such a treasure in our possession. In it are contained every advice you could give us, and cautions against the

temptations which on account of youth, company, and the country we are in, we are exposed to.

We thought we were to winter at Quebec; but this day's packet has brought orders to march to Montreal. I would have been contented to have remained here. The doctor begs to be remembered to you. Remember us both to Mr.

D——, the dear boy, yours and ours. Farewell, my dear parents,

I am, as ever, your affectionate

and dutiful Daughter,

I. GRAHAM.

LETTER III.

TO MRS. MARSHALL.

MY DEAR MOTHER,

Montreal, April 30, 1788.

YOUR long expected, and much dreaded letter, I have at last received. I should not say yours, for I feared I should have no letter from you; but I was very much afraid of the first acccunts from Scotland. I cannot express my joy when, on opening my letter, I found it written by the hand of my dear mother. I believe, had it been in the hand of my father, I would not have had courage to read it, as my fears were entirely for you. For the bare knowledge that you were alive, and in tolerable health, I would have given any thing long before the first glance of your hand-writing conveyed it to me. I assure you

the perusal gave me a greater share of pleasure than pain.

The death of my dear, lovely infant drew from my eyes many tears, but I am still of the same way of thinking, that a child's dying in infant innocence, is no real cause of grief. I only felt, what every mother feels, from a natural fondness, who parts with her child to a dear friend with whom she is certain he will be happier; yet, if she has no hopes of seeing him for a long time, though willing to part with him for his good, the parting will be tender and distressing. I could have wished him to live, more for your sake than my own, as I hoped he might be an agreeable amusement to you, and sometimes make you forget your other afflictions, and, in time, have greatly blunted the edge of them; but, it has pleased God to take him to himself, and I hope he will supply this loss to you and me in some other way. My first emotions were over before your letter arrived. I was sitting one evening at tea, with a good deal of company about me, cheerful and happy, as I knew no cause why I should be otherwise, when the Doctor opened the door. I read something very interesting in his