disadvantageous to a young lady than to be known as a novel
writer. Frances yielded, relinquished her favourite pursuit, and
made a bonfire of all her manuscripts.(9) Page xix -MAD

She now hemmed and stitched from breakfast to dinner with
scrupulous regularity. But the dinners of that time were early ;
and the afternoon was her own. Though she had given up
novelwriting, she was still fond of using her pen. She began to
keep a diary, and she corresponded largely with a person who
seems to have had the chief share in the formation of her mind.
This was Samuel Crisp, an old friend of her father. His name,
well known, near a century ago, in the most splendid circles of
London, has long been forgotten. His history is, however, so
interesting and instructive, that it tempts us to venture on a
digression. Long before Frances Burney was born, Mr. Crisp had
made his entrance into the world, with every advantage.
He was well connected and well educated. His face and figure were
conspicuously handsome; his manners were polished; his fortune
was easy; his character was without stain ; he lived in the best
society; he had read much ; he talked well; his taste in
literature, music, painting, architecture, sculpture, was held in
high esteem. Nothing that the world can give seemed to be wanting
to his happiness and respectability, except that he should
understand the limits of his powers, and should not throw away
distinctions which were within his reach in the pursuit of
distinctions which were unattainable. " It is an uncontrolled
truth," says Swift, "that no man ever made an ill figure who
understood his own talents, nor a good one who mistook them."
Every day brings with it fresh illustrations of this weighty
saying ; but the best commentary that we remember is the history