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.

The road from Quebec to Montreal is almost a continued street, the
villages being numerous, and so extended along the banks of the river
St. Lawrence as to leave scarce a space without houses in view; except
where here or there a river, a wood, or mountain intervenes, as if to
give a more pleasing variety to the scene. I don't remember ever having
had a more agreeable journey; the fine prospects of the day so
enliven'd by the gay chat of the evening, that I was really sorry when
I approach'd Montreal.