letters from him, which indicated a mind of no common order.
They were filled with amusing details, and profound reflections.
While here, he often partook of our evening conversations at the
temple; and since his departure, his correspondence had
frequently supplied us with topics of discourse.

One afternoon in May, the blandness of the air, and
brightness of the verdure, induced us to assemble, earlier than
usual, in the temple. We females were busy at the needle, while
my brother and Pleyel were bandying quotations and syllogisms.
The point discussed was the merit of the oration for Cluentius,
as descriptive, first, of the genius of the speaker; and,
secondly, of the manners of the times. Pleyel laboured to
extenuate both these species of merit, and tasked his ingenuity,
to shew that the orator had embraced a bad cause; or, at least,
a doubtful one. He urged, that to rely on the exaggerations of
an advocate, or to make the picture of a single family a model
from which to sketch the condition of a nation, was absurd. The
controversy was suddenly diverted into a new channel, by a
misquotation. Pleyel accused his companion of saying
"polliciatur" when he should have said "polliceretur."
Nothing would decide the contest, but an appeal to the volume.
My brother was returning to the house for this purpose, when a
servant met him with a letter from Major Stuart. He immediately
returned to read it in our company.

Besides affectionate compliments to us, and paternal
benedictions on Louisa, his letter contained a description of a
waterfall on the Monongahela. A sudden gust of rain falling, we
were compelled to remove to the house. The storm passed away,