at reading I chiefly admired. There was a
great Book of Martyrs in which I used to read, or rather I used to
spell out meanings; for I was too ignorant to make out many words; but
there it was written all about those good men who chose to be burnt
alive, rather than forsake their religion, and become naughty papists.
Some words I could make out, some I could not; but I made out enough
to fill my little head with vanity, and I used to think I was so
courageous I could be burnt too, and I would put my hands upon the
flames which were pictured in the pretty pictures which the book had,
and feel them; but, you know, ladies, there is a great difference
between the flames in a picture, and real fire, and I am now ashamed
of the conceit which I had of my own courage, and think how poor a
martyr I should have made in those days. Then there was a book not
so big, but it had pictures in, it was called Culpepper's Herbal; it
was full of pictures of plants and herbs, but I did not much care for
that. Then there was Salmon's Modern History, out of which I picked
a good deal. It had pictures of Chinese gods, and the great hooded
serpent which ran strangely in my fancy. There were some law books
too, but the old English frighted me from reading them. But above all,
what I relished was Stackhouse's History of the Bible, where there
was the picture of the Ark and all the beasts getting into it. This
delighted me, because it puzzled me, and many an aching head have I
got with poring into it, and contriving how it might be built, with
such and such rooms, to hold all the world if there should be another
flood, and sometimes settling what pretty beasts should be saved,
and what should not, for I would have no ugly or deformed beast in
my pretty ark. But this was only a piece of folly and vanity, that
a little reflection might cure me of. Foolish girl that I was! to
suppose that any creature is really ugly, that has all its limbs
contrived with heavenly wisdom, and was doubtless formed to some
beautiful end, though a child cannot comprehend it.--Doubtless a frog
or a toad is not uglier in itself than a squirrel or a pretty green
lizard; but we want understanding to see it.

[_Here I must remind you, my dear miss Howe, that one of the young
ladies smiled, and two or three were seen to titter, at this part of
your narration, and you seemed, I thought, a little too angry for
a girl of your sense and reading; but you will remember, my dear,
th