Yes; you do a little. The
other day papa was tired; he had been walking about all the morning.
After dinner he fell asleep on the sopha. I did not bid you be quiet; but
you thought of what papa said to you, when my head ached. This made you
think that you ought not to make a noise, when papa was resting himself.
So you came to me, and said to me, very softly, Pray reach me my ball,
and I will go and play in the garden, till papa wakes.

You were going out; but thinking again, you came back to me on your
tip-toes. Whisper----whisper. Pray mama, call me, when papa wakes; for I
shall be afraid to open the door to see, lest I should disturb him.

Away you went.--Creep--creep--and shut the door as softly as I could have
done myself.

That was thinking. When a child does wrong at first, she does not know
any better. But, after she has been told that she must not disturb mama,
when poor mama is unwell, she thinks herself, that she must not wake papa
when he is tired.

Another day we will see if you can think about any thing else.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[175-A] This title which is indorsed on the back of the manuscript, I
conclude to have been written in a period of desperation, in the month of
October, 1795.

EDITOR.

POSTHUMOUS WORKS

OF THE

AUTHOR

OF A

VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.

IN FOUR VOLUMES.

* * * * *

VOL. III.

* * * * *

_LONDON:_

PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, NO. 72, ST. PAUL'S
CHURCH-YARD; AND G. G. AND J. ROBINSON,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1798.

LETTERS
AND
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

PREFACE.

THE following Letters may possibly be found to contain the finest
examples of the language of sentiment and passion ever presented to the
world. They bear a striking resemblance to the celebrated romance of
Werter, though the incidents to which they relate are of a very different
cast. Probably the readers to whom Werter is incapable of affording
pleasure, will receive no delight from the present publication. The
editor apprehends that, in the judgment of those best qualified to
decide upon the comparison, these Letters will be admitted to have the
superiority over the fiction of Goethe. They are the offspring of a
glowing imagination, and a heart penetrated with the passion it essays to
describe.

To the series of letters constituting the pri