the other could find nothing but reasons for doubt. Moral
necessity, and calvinistic inspiration, were the props on which
my brother thought proper to repose. Pleyel was the champion of
intellectual liberty, and rejected all guidance but that of his
reason. Their discussions were frequent, but, being managed
with candour as well as with skill, they were always listened to
by us with avidity and benefit.

Pleyel, like his new friends, was fond of music and poetry.
Henceforth our concerts consisted of two violins, an
harpsichord, and three voices. We were frequently reminded how
much happiness depends upon society. This new friend, though,
before his arrival, we were sensible of no vacuity, could not
now be spared. His departure would occasion a void which
nothing could fill, and which would produce insupportable
regret. Even my brother, though his opinions were hourly
assailed, and even the divinity of Cicero contested, was
captivated with his friend, and laid aside some part of his
ancient gravity at Pleyel's approach.



Chapter IV


Six years of uninterrupted happiness had rolled away, since
my brother's marriage. The sound of war had been heard, but it
was at such a distance as to enhance our enjoyment by affording
objects of comparison. The Indians were repulsed on the one
side, and Canada was conquered on the other. Revolutions and