really hurry one out of one's senses.

Our little coterie is the object of great envy; we live just as we
like, without thinking of other people, which I am not sure _here_
is prudent, but it is pleasant, which is a better thing.

Emily, who is the civilest creature breathing, is for giving up her
own pleasure to avoid offending others, and wants me, every time we
make a carrioling-party, to invite all the misses of Quebec to go with
us, because they seem angry at our being happy without them: but for
that very reason I persist in my own way, and consider wisely, that,
though civility is due to other people, yet there is also some civility
due to one's self.

I agree to visit every body, but think it mighty absurd I must not
take a ride without asking a hundred people I scarce know to go with
me: yet this is the style here; they will neither be happy themselves,
nor let any body else. Adieu!

Dec. 29.

I will never take a beaver's word again as long as I live: there is
no supporting this cold; the Canadians say it is seventeen years since
there has been so severe a season. I thought beavers had been people
of more honor.

Adieu! I can no more: the ink freezes as I take it from the standish
to the paper, though close to a large stove. Don't expect me to write
again till May; one's faculties are absolutely congealed this weather.