me on earth. I am not particular: I see a gloom on every countenance; I
have been at church, and think I never saw so many dejected faces in my
life.

Adieu! for the present: it will be a fortnight before I can send
this letter; another agreable circumstance that: would to Heaven I
were in England, though I changed the bright sun of Canada for a fog!

Dec. 1.

We have had a week's snow without intermission: happily for us, your
brother and the Fitz have been weather-bound all the time at Silleri,
and cannot possibly get away.

We have amused ourselves within doors, for there is no stirring
abroad, with playing at cards, playing at shuttlecock, playing the
fool, making love, and making moral reflexions: upon the whole, the
week has not been very disagreable.

The snow is when we wake constantly up to our chamber windows; we
are literally dug out of it every morning.

As to Quebec, I give up all hopes of ever seeing it again: but my
comfort is, that the people there cannot possibly get to their
neighbors; and I flatter myself very few of them have been half so well
entertained at home.

We shall be abused, I know, for (what is really the fault of the
weather) keeping these two creatures here this week; the ladies hate us
for engrossing two such fine fellows as your brother and Fitzgerald, as