MY DEAR SIR,
Since I saw you, I have, literally speaking, enjoyed solitude. My sister could not accompany me in my rambles; I therefore wandered alone by the side of the Thames, and in the neighbouring beautiful fields and pleasure-grounds: the prospects were of such a placid kind, I caught tranquillity while I surveyed them—my mind was still, though active. Were I to give you an account how I have spent my time, you would smile. I found an old French bible here, and amused myself with comparing it with our English translation—then I would listen to the falling leaves, or observe the various tints the autumn gave to them. At other times, the singing of a robin, or the noise of a water-mill, engaged my attention—for I was, at the same time perhaps discussing some knotty point, or straying from this tiny world to new systems. After these excursions, I returned to the family meals, to’d the children stories (they think me vastly agreeable) and my sister was amused.—Well, will you allow me to call this way of passing my days pleasant?
I was just going to mend my pen; but I believe it will enable me to say all I have to add to this epistle. Have you yet heard of an habitation for me? I often think of my new plan of life; and, lest my sister should try to prevail on me to alter it, I have avoided mentioning it to her. I am determined!—Your sex generally laugh at female determinations; but let me tell you, I never yet resolved to do any thing of consequence, that I did not adhere resolutely to it, till I had accomplished my purpose, improbable as it might have appeared to a more timid mind. In the course of near nine-and-twenty years, I have gathered some experience, and felt many severe disappointments—and what is the amount? I long for a little peace and independence! Every obligation we receive from our fellow-creatures is a new shackle, takes from our native freedom, and debases the mind, makes us mere earthworms—I am not fond of grovelling!
I am, sir, yours, &c.
Mary Wollstonecraft.
LETTER III.
Market Harborough, Sept. 20.
MY DEAR SIR,
You left me with three opulent tradesmen; their conversation was not calculated to beguile the way, when the sable curtain concealed the beauties of nature. I listened to the tricks of trade—and shrunk away without wishing to grow rich; even the novelty of the subjects did not render them pleasing; fond as I am of tracing the passions in all their different forms—I was not surprised by any glimpse of the sublime or beautiful—though one of them imagined I should be a useful partner in a good firm. I was very much fatigued, and have scarcely recovered myself. I do not expect to enjoy the same tranquil pleasures Henley afforded: I meet with new objects to employ my mind; but many painful emotions are complicated with the reflections they give rise to.
I do not intend to enter on the old topic, yet hope to hear from you—and am yours, &c.