muggle my poor girl
on any man by concealing from him this unpopular attainment, any more
than I would conceal any personal defect."

"I will honestly confess," said Sir John, who had not yet spoken, "that
had I been to judge the case _a priori_, had I met Miss Stanley under
the terrifying persuasion that she was a scholar, I own I should have
met her with a prejudice; I should have feared she might be forward in
conversation, deficient in feminine manners, and destitute of domestic
talents. But having had such a fair occasion of admiring her engaging
modesty, her gentle and unassuming tone in society, and above all,
having heard from Lady Belfield how eminently she excels in the true
science of a lady--domestic knowledge--I can not refuse her that
additional regard, which this solid acquirement, so meekly borne,
deserves. Nor, on reflection, do I see why we should be so forward to
instruct a woman in the language spoken at Rome in its present degraded
state, in which there are comparatively few authors to improve her, and
yet be afraid that she should be acquainted with that which was its
vernacular tongue, in its age of glory two thousand years ago, and which
abounds with writers of supreme excellence."

I was charmed at these concessions from Sir John, and exclaimed with a
transport which I could not restrain: "In our friends, even in our
common acquaintance, do we not delight to associate with those whose
pursuits have been similar to our own, and who have read the same books?
How dull do we find it, when civility compels us to pass even a day with
an illiterate man? Shall we not then delight in the kindred acquirements
of a dearer friend? Shall we not rejoice in a companion who has drawn,
though less copiously, perhaps, from the same rich sources with
ourselves; who can relish the beauty we quote, and trace the allusion at
which we hint? I do not mean that _learning_ is absolutely necessary,
but a man of taste who has an ignorant wife, can not, in her company,
think his own thoughts, nor speak his own language; his thoughts he will
suppress; his language he will debase, the one from hopelessness, the
other from compassion. He must be continually lowering and diluting his
meaning, in order to make himself intelligible. This he will do for the
woman he loves, but in doing it he will not be happy. She, who can not
be entertained by his conversation, will not be convinced by his
reasoning; and at length he will find o