were left to the guidance of our own understanding, and the
casual impressions which society might make upon us. My
friend's temper, as well as my own, exempted us from much
anxiety on this account. It must not be supposed that we were
without religion, but with us it was the product of lively
feelings, excited by reflection on our own happiness, and by the
grandeur of external nature. We sought not a basis for our
faith, in the weighing of proofs, and the dissection of creeds.
Our devotion was a mixed and casual sentiment, seldom verbally
expressed, or solicitously sought, or carefully retained. In
the midst of present enjoyment, no thought was bestowed on the
future. As a consolation in calamity religion is dear. But
calamity was yet at a distance, and its only tendency was to
heighten enjoyments which needed not this addition to satisfy
every craving.

My brother's situation was somewhat different. His
deportment was grave, considerate, and thoughtful. I will not
say whether he was indebted to sublimer views for this
disposition. Human life, in his opinion, was made up of
changeable elements, and the principles of duty were not easily
unfolded. The future, either as anterior, or subsequent to
death, was a scene that required some preparation and provision
to be made for it. These positions we could not deny, but what
distinguished him was a propensity to ruminate on these truths.
The images that visited us were blithsome and gay, but those
with which he was most familiar were of an opposite hue. They
did not generate affliction and fear, but they diffused over his
behaviour a certain air of forethought and sobriety. The
principal effect of this temper was visible in his features and