_cause_ of misconduct or frailty. You'll say that rule is absurd,
inasmuch as it is not observed in human life: that I allow, but we know
the inflictions of Providence are for wise purposes, therefore our
reason willingly submits to them. But as the only good purpose of a book
is to inculcate morality and convey some lesson of instruction as well
as delight, I do not see that what is called a _good moral_ can be
dispensed with in a work of fiction. Another fault is your making your
hero attempt suicide, which is greatly too shocking, and destroys all
the interest his misfortunes would otherwise excite--that, however,
could be easily altered, and in other respects I think your plot has
great merit. You'll perhaps be displeased at the freedom of my remarks;
but in the first place freedom is absolutely necessary in the cause in
which we are about to embark, and it must be understood to be one if not
the chief article of our creed. In the second (though it should have
been the first), know that I always say what I think, or say nothing.
Now as to my own deeds--I shall make no apologies (since they must be
banished from our code of laws) for sending you a hasty and imperfect
sketch of what I think might be wrought up to a tolerable form. I do not
recollect ever to have seen the sudden transition of a high-bred English
beauty, [1] who thinks she can sacrifice all for love, to an
uncomfortable solitary Highland dwelling [2] among tall red-haired
sisters and grim-faced aunts. Don't you think this would make a good
opening of the piece? Suppose each of us try our hands on it; the moral
to be deduced from that is to warn all young ladies against runaway
matches, and the character and fate of the two sisters would be
_unexceptionable._ I expect it will be the first book every wise matron
will put into the hand of her daughter, and even the reviewers will
relax of their severity in favour of the morality of this little work.
Enchanting sight! already do I behold myself arrayed in an old mouldy
covering, thumbed and creased and filled with dogs'-ears. I hear the