only a source of confusion; but after I had thought a little and read
it again and again, the prospect seemed to clear. You do not forbid
me to write; you do not say that what I write is utterly destitute of
merit. You only warn me against the folly of neglecting real duties
for the sake of imaginative pleasures; of writing for the love of
fame; for the selfish excitement of emulation. You kindly allow me to
write poetry for its own sake, provided I leave undone nothing which I
ought to do, in order to pursue that single, absorbing, exquisite
gratification. I am afraid, sir, you think me very foolish. I know
the first letter I wrote to you was all senseless trash from beginning
to end; but I am not altogether the idle dreaming being it would seem
to denote. My father is a clergyman of limited, though competent
income, and I am the eldest of his children. He expended quite as
much in my education as he could afford in justice to the rest. I
thought it therefore my duty, when I left school, to become a
governess. In that capacity I find enough to occupy my thoughts all
day long, and my head and hands too, without having a moment's time
for one dream of the imagination. In the evenings, I confess, I do
think, but I never trouble any one else with my thoughts. I carefully
avoid any appearance of preoccupation and eccentricity, which might
lead those I live amongst to suspect the nature of my pursuits.
Following my father's advice--who from my childhood has counselled me,
just in the wise and friendly tone of your letter--I have endeavoured
not only attentively to observe all the duties a woman ought to
fulfil, but to feel deeply interested in them. I don't always
succeed, for sometimes when I'm teaching or sewing I would rather be
reading or writing; but I try to deny myself; and my father's
approbation amply rewarded me for the privation. Once more allow me
to thank you with sincere gratitude. I trust I shall never more feel
ambitious to see my name in print: if the wish should rise, I'll look
at Southey's letter, and suppress it. It is honour enough for me that
I have written to him, and received an answer. That letter is
consecrated; no one shall ever see it, but papa and my brother and
sisters. Again I thank you. This incident, I suppose, will be
renewed no more; if I live to be an old woman, I shall reme