"Do you know, mamma, that Miss Roscoe is become so religious, that she actually refused the Rev. Mr. Cole as a partner at cards, at Mr. Roscoe's party, and said so many hard things against card-playing, and brought forward so many arguments from some old Puritanical book, that he was at times quite disconcerted?"
"Yes, my dear, and it is enough to disconcert any good Christian to have religious subjects introduced at our convivial parties."
"O yes, mamma, exactly so. I think if we are religious on a Sunday, it is as much as ought to be expected. Our Maker can't expect more. Do you think he can, ma'?"
"Certainly not, my dear; if he did, we should have had two Sundays in the week, instead of one."
"Well, ma', I really wonder how it is that Miss Roscoe has become so religious all at once. What a pity. I suppose she must be very unhappy."
"Yes, my dear, that you may depend on. Her parents are nearly broken-hearted. Dear Mrs. Roscoe says that all their peace is gone; and they really dread the consequences. She has positively refused to attend our ball on Friday week."
"Is it possible? I wish I had known it, I would have reasoned the point with her. I will go and see her. I think I can persuade her, because I recollect putting aside an engagement one night last winter to go with her to see the Beggar's Opera."
"Ah! my dear, when this evangelical religion, as it is called, takes possession of a person's mind, it is no use to attempt to reason or try persuasion—reason has nothing to do with it."
"Then, mamma, it must be a very unreasonable thing."