The only religious order at present existing in the town is that of St. Ursule, the sisterhood of which is as numerous as the convent will well permit. It was founded by M. de St. Vallier, bishop of Quebec, in the year 1677. It is a spacious building, situated near that formerly belonging to the Recollets; and annexed to it, under the same roof, there is an hospital attended by the nuns. We were introduced to the chaplain of the order, a poor French emigrant curé, an interesting and apparently a most amiable man, and under his guidance we received permission to visit the convent. The first part we entered was the chapel, the doors of which open to the street under a porch. It is very lofty, but the area of it is small. The altar, which is grand, and richly ornamented, stands nearly opposite to the entrance, and on each side of it is a lattice, the one communicating with an apartment allotted for sick nuns, the other with the cœur of the chapel. On ringing a small bell, a curtain at the inside of this last lattice was withdrawn, and an apartment discovered, somewhat larger than the chapel, surrounded with pews, and furnished with an altar, at the foot of which sat two of the sisterhood, with books in their hands, at their meditations. The fair Ursuline, who came to the lattice, seemed to be one of those unfortunate females that had at last begun to feel all the horrors of confinement, and to lament the rashness of that vow which had secluded her for ever from the world, and from the participation of those innocent pleasures, which, for the best and wisest of purposes, the beneficent Ruler of the universe meant that his creatures should enjoy. As she withdrew the curtain, she cast a momentary glance through the grating, that imparted more than could be expressed by the most eloquent words; then retiring in silence, seated herself on a bench in a distant part of the cœur. The melancholy and sorrow pourtrayed in the features of her lovely countenance interested the heart in her behalf, and it was impossible to behold her without partaking of that dejection which hung over her soul, and without deprecating at the same time the cruelty of the custom which allows, and the mistaken zeal of a religion that encourages, an artless and inexperienced young creature to renounce a world, of which she was destined, perhaps, to be a happy and useful member, for an unprofitable life of solitude, and unremitted penance for sins never committed! [Sidenote: URSULINES.]