nd
childlike recreations were prohibited, to gain more time for study. It
cannot be said that Fannny's health was injured by the over action of
her mind; for, having none, it could not be easily acted upon; but, by
perpetual dronish application, and sacrifice of all external things for
the furtherance of this scheme of mental cultivation, her physical
energies were suppressed, and she became heavy, awkward, and inactive.

Fanny had no pleasure in reading, but she had a pride in having read;
and listened, with no small satisfaction, to her mother's detail of the
authors she was conversant with; beyond her age, and, as some untalented
ventured to suggest, not always suited to her years of innocence. The
arcana of their pages were safe, however, and quite guiltless of her
mind's corruption. Fanny never thought, whatever she might read; what
was in the book, was nothing to her; all her business was to _have_ read
it. Meantime, while the powers he had not were solicited in vain, the
talents she had were neglected and suppressed. Her good-humored
enjoyment of ordinary things, her real taste for domestic arrangement,
and open simplicity of heart, were derided as vulgar and unintellectual.
Her talent for music was thought not worth cultivating; time could not
be spared. Some little capacity she had for drawing, as an imitative
art, was baffled by the determination to teach it her scientifically,
thus rendering it as impossible as every thing else. In short--for why
need I prolong my sketch?--Fanny was prepared by nature to be the _beau
ideal_ of Mrs. W.'s amiable woman.

Constitutionally active and benevolent, judicious culture might have
made her sensible, and, in common life, intelligent, pleasing, useful,
happy. Nay, I need only refer to the picture of my former paper, to say
what Fanny, well educated, was calculated to become. But this was what
her parents were determined she should not be; and they spent twenty
years, and no small amount of cash, to make her a woman of superior mind
and distinguished literary attainments.

I saw the result; for I saw Fanny at twenty, the most unlovely, useless,
and unhappy being I ever met with. The very docility of a mind, not
strong enough to choose its own part, and resist the influence of
circumstances, hastened forward the catastrophe. She had learned to
think herself what she could not be, and to despise what in reality she
was; she could not otherwise than do so, for she had been