Thoroughly respectable, and a little devout, Mr.Galbraith was a good deal more of a Scotchman than a Christian; growth was a doctrine unembodied in his creed; he turned from everything new, no matter how harmonious with the old, in freezing disapprobation; he recognized no element in God or nature which could not be reasoned about after the forms of the Scotch philosophy.

He would not have said an Episcopalian could not be saved, for at the bar he had known more than one good lawyer of the episcopal party; but to say a Roman Catholic would not necessarily be damned, would to his judgment have revealed at once the impending fate of the rash asserter.

In religion he regarded everything not only as settled but as understood; but seemed aware of no call in relation to truth, but to bark at anyone who showed the least anxiety to discover it.

What truth he held himself, he held as a sack holds corn--not even as a worm holds earth.
To his servants and tenants he was what he thought just--never condescending to talk over a thing with any of the former but the game-keeper, and never making any allowance to the latter for misfortune.

In general expression he looked displeased, but meant to look dignified.