THE EARNEST PHILANTHROPIST. tion as a mere fine lady, and declare that she daily fell lower in her own estimation ; lament that she was so " proud, vain, and silly," and resolve to es- cape from the whirl of dissipation. Her thoughts would be lofty and serious ; she would long for steady, supporting belief : but " I don't feel any real religion," she writes. "I should think those feelings impossible to obtain ; for even if I believed all the Bible was true, I don't think I could make myself feel it." Then we find her, brilliant as a butterfly, riding to Norwich, in a most becoming scarlet habit, " to hear the military band," and re- turning " idle and relaxed in mind." " I feel by experience," she says, " how much entrance into the world hurts me ; worldly company, I think, materially injures : it excites a false stimu- lus, such as a love of pomp, pride, vanity, jealousy, and ambition ; it leads to think about dress and such trifles ; and when out of it, we fly to novels and scandal, or something of that kind, for entertain- ment." She admits, though in another place, "I love scandal, though I highly disapprove of it." And she loves society fondly: - "Aug. 6th, 1797. -I have a cross to-night. I had very much set my mind on going to the Oratorio; the Prince (the Duke of Gloucester) is to be there, and by all accounts it will be quite a grand sight, and there will be fine music; but if my father does not like me to go, much as I wish it, I will give it up with pleasure, if it be in my power, without a 13
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy OTcyMjk=