And well my life shall pay;

I’ll seek the solitude¹ he sought,

And stretch me where he lay.”—Goldsmith.

To begin, then, as they say in a novel, without further preface, I was the only child of a country curate, in the southern part of England, who, like his wife, was of a good, but reduced family. Contented² dispositions⁴ and an agreeable neighborhood, ready on every occasion to oblige them, rendered them, in their humble⁵ situations, completely happy. I was the idol⁶ of both their hearts; every one told my mother I should grow up a beauty, and she, poor simple woman, believed the flattering tale. Naturally ambitious, and somewhat romantic, she expected nothing less than my attaining⁷, by my charms, an elevated situation; to fit me to it, therefore, according to her idea, she gave me all the showy, instead of solid, advantages of education. My father being a meek⁸, or rather an indolent man, submitted entirely⁹ to her direction; thus, without knowing the grammatical part of my own language, I was taught to gabble bad French by myself; and, instead of mending or making my clothes, to flourish upon catgut and embroider¹⁰ satin. I was taught dancing by a man who kept a cheap school for that purpose in the village; music I could not aspire¹² to, my mother’s finances being insufficient¹³ to purchase an instrument; she was therefore obliged to content herself with my knowing the

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