believe it was the original source of an eager desire to see something more of the world than our way of life and my father's rules had hitherto permitted.
You must know, that at the convent Fanny was extremely intimate with a young girl, much about her own age, who was very gay, very enterprizing, and very fond of novels. That species of reading you know was prohibited, and no books of a romantic nature admitted within the grate. Fanny's young friend,

however, contrived, through means of an indulgent relation who lived in the town, to be privately supplied with abundant gratification of this kind, and unknown to every one but Fanny, who soon imbibed the same taste, used to devour with eagerness all the fabulous stuff she could get conveyed into the convent. Fanny was alone in a secret, the fruits of which she sufficiently enjoyed, till one unlucky day, when some of the nuns unfortunately discovered the Paysanne Parvenue cunningly hid beneath the quilt of her bed; and after a severe punishment having been inflicted for the transgression, care was taken to prevent all possibility of its being repeated.
During a few days which Fanny passed at V—, in her way home, she contrived to expend all her pocket money on purchases of novels; and Madam de Clarence, who had undertaken to bring her thither, perceiving her fondness for

this kind of reading, presented her with several in vogue, so that on her arrival she brought with her a little library of romance, which opened a field entirely new to me, and which was so insinuating to a person whose amusement depended so much upon books as mine had ever done, that though my father disapproved our studies, it was not unusual for Fanny and I to retire to our favourite seat in the wood, and unknown to him employ ourselves for hours in this forbidden reading.
I recollected that it was not till after reading these fallacious relations of the universal and uncontrouled empire of love, and the alluring recitals of conquest, vanity, and fame, that Fanny and I began to suspect my father's description of life to be the effects of singularity of temper and taste: to own the truth however, these emotions of regret on being deprived of our chance for a share

in these pleasures, were but transient and left very little impression on our minds.
OCT. 4.
I am now almost perfectly recovered, my dear; and have been out more than once airing with Fanny, who is now as cheerful as ever, and talks of our journey to England (which is to take place as soon