LETTER XXXIII.33.

　　To Miss Rivers, Clarges Street.

　　Quebec, Oct.12.

　　I have no patience with this foolish brother of yours; he is rambling about in the woods when we want him here: we have a most agreeable assembly every Thursday at the General’s, and have had another ball since he has been gone on this ridiculous ramble; I miss the dear creature wherever I go.We have nothing but balls, cards, and parties of pleasure; but they are nothing without my little Rivers.

　　I have been making the tour of the three religions this morning, and, as I am the most constant creature breathing; am come back only a thousand times more pleased with my own.I have been at mass, at church, and at the presbyterian meeting: an idea struck me at the last, in regard to the drapery of them all; that the Romish religion is like an over-dressed, tawdry, rich citizen’s wife; the presbyterian like a rude aukward country girl; the church of England like an elegant well-dressed woman of quality,“plain in her neatness”(to "e Horace, who is my favorite author).There is a noble, graceful simplicity both in the worship and the ceremonies of the church of England, which, even if I were a stranger to her doctrines, would prejudice me strongly in her favor.

　　Sir George sets out for Montreal this evening, so do the house of Melmoth; I have however prevailed on Emily to stay a month or two longer with me.I am rejoiced Sir George is going away; I am tired of seeing that eternal smile, that countenance of his, which attempts to speak, and says nothing.I am in doubt whether I shall let Emily marry him; she will die in a week, of no distemper but his conversation.

　　They dine with us.I am called down.Adieu!

　　Eight at night.

　　Heaven be praised, our lover is gone; they parted with great philosophy on both sides: they are the prettiest mild pair of inamoratoes one shall see.

　　Your brother’s servant has just called to tell me he is going to his master.I have a great mind to answer his letter, and order him back. The History of Emily Montague