In the morning when the Postman came with his two loud raps at the door, wherever she might be, Fanny always ran to the door; and then she would follow the servant to her Papa’s study, to read the directions on the letters, that she might guess who they came from.
Thus Fanny was very curious about many things that did not concern her; and things that it was of no consequence for her to be acquainted with: but as for her lessons, it was very difficult to make her attend to them at all.
Her sister Mary was very different: she not only learned her lessons willingly; but she was never satisfied till she understood every part of them. She always asked the meaning of every new word she met with: and she was eager to be acquainted with the nature and use of all she saw, or read about. Fanny could remember the names over most of the shop doors in the town: but Mary was acquainted with the nature of the principal trades and manufactures: she knew what countries the different articles of food, dress, or furniture come from, and how they are prepared for use.
Fanny not only knew the names of most of the neighbours; but also, how many servants they kept; or what their business was; or who their relations were: but Mary knew the names of the most famous men who have lived in different ages of the world; and what they were famous for. Fanny could describe all the London coaches that regularly passed through the town: she knew also what hour they came in; and what inn they changed horses at: but Mary knew the names of the constellations in the heavens; and also of the planets;—in what times they revolve in their orbits;—what their distance from the sun is;—how many moons they have;—when they may be seen;—and when eclipses of the sun or moon will happen. She wished to understand the reason of every thing she observed; and her Papa always took the pains to tell her as much as she was able to comprehend: and sometimes he told her in what book she would find an answer to her questions. Sometimes, also, when she asked a question, her Papa would say, “You cannot understand that at present, Mary;” and then she would be contented, and not ask any more about it.
One morning, Fanny came bouncing into her Papa’s study, with a letter in her hand, which she had just snatched from the servant; crying out,—“O, Papa! Papa! Here is a letter from Uncle Thomas; I know it is from Uncle Thomas; it is his hand; and his seal too, there are the birds on the fire-screen, and the crooked arm over it. I dare say it is to ask me and Mary to go and spend some time with cousins: I dare say it is.”
“Yes, Fanny,” said her Papa, when he had read the letter, “it is from your Uncle Thomas; but he says nothing about asking you to come and see him; he sends his love to you, however, and he says he hopes to spend a few days with us, soon.”
“Soon! Soon! but when, Papa?”
“He does not fix the day, Fanny.”
“Then I will stand at the window, and watch all the coaches and chaises that drive by, till I see him.”
Mary, too, was very much pleased to hear that her Uncle Thomas was coming. He was very fond of his little nieces. He had travelled in different parts of Europe; and he had always many interesting things to tell them.