Ir appears, from very early fragments of composition, that Mary Anne had from childhood been accustomed to write down her thoughts and impressions. We learn from her preface to "The Theory of Beauty and Deformity," that the subject of that work had occupied her mind at "a very early age." It gave scope to all her favourite pursuits; to her genius for drawing, by which she loved to illustrate her theory; to poetry, to literature, whether classical or otherwise. In all she saw or read, she found objects to classify and elucidate. The circumstances related in the preceding chapter seem to have given a new bent to her intellectual labours. She says: "I have lately written for my own amusement more than usual. I believe I should hardly reconcile giving up so much time to this

occupation, did I think it absolutely impossible that my writings should ever do good to others, though I have no intention of publishing at present. If ever, however, I should, God grant that self-display be far from me, and that the promotion of His honour, or the true interests of mankind, may be my aim, and that vanity may influence me neither as to the end nor the means. May I never put my pen to paper without an end in view, such as I may humbly implore God's blessing upon. May I also at the same time beseech Him to keep all vain thoughts from me as to the means, that I may avoid all finery of style as I would finery of dress; and that, through His blessing, I may equally be kept from mental as from corporeal vanity.

"For myself, and for all who, like myself, spend time in literary pursuits, I make the following prayer:

"Grant us, Heavenly Father, to love Thee in spirit and in truth. Teach us first to seek Thee in sincerity of heart, that our wills being made upright, we may be enabled to receive that portion of true knowledge which may be needful to ourselves, and to set forth Thy wisdom to others, untinctured by any foreign mixture of our own; that Thy glory, and not ours, may be the object, and that Thy name and rule may abide as a light, enlightening, and warming with its genial influences, the hearts of all Thy children, now and evermore. Amen.'

The question of writing for the public came, at this time, under full consideration between her mother and herself, in consequence, as it appears, of a proposal having been made to her to undertake some literary work connected with the education of the poor. Mrs. Galton, no

mean judge or critic, gives, in reference to this subject, an estimate of her daughter's powers. She says:

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'Mary Anne's health is with me a primary object, and it is impossible I can form a judgment of any plan in relation to her, without first understanding what degree of exertion or of application may be requisite. Mary Anne is a free agent. She will decide for herself in this case as in all others; but, as she consults me in the character of a friend, I must advise her as a friend, and I cannot but consider the preservation of her health as a first duty. It is inadequate to great exertion, or continued application, or to the weight of a serious responsibility. If it be the plan for my daughter to write a book upon the subject in question, I know not any woman, and not many men, capable of thinking so deeply or so clearly, or of supplying so many ideas. But the labour of thinking is the poison that has already undermined her bodily strength; 'the sword wears out the scabbard.' If the object be for her only to methodise and dress up in a new style ideas already collected, I must freely say that such an object appears to me altogether unworthy of a person of genius, and of one who can think and act independently."

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Mrs. Galton again writes: "I thank Mrs. B for her high opinion, I may say her just opinion, of my daughter. As for myself, I can by no means promote her writing for the public. The more I consider the subject, the more objections arise; they crowd before me in endless perspective, like Macbeth's ghosts. Nevertheless, these spectres may perhaps not show themselves so conspicuously

to Mary Anne's imagination as they do to her mother's. At all events, I have no ambition to see her an author."

To her daughter, she says:

"Dear Mary Anne,

"You see what I have written. My further advice is, to weigh the matter in your own mind, and decide as you think best; either way, there are advantages or disadvantages. I see the subject just as you do, and so does Mr. Galton. In one thing only I suspect we differ. I suspect that you imagine it is more easy to write for the public than it is. I don't believe you could do it without the revision of some other person. You are furnished with ideas to fill many books; but many habitual writers could commit those ideas to paper with fewer mistakes. You have the power, if I may so express it, but not the knack of writing. Pray reflect seriously upon this, and remember, that a well-applied satire from the Edinburgh Reviewers might not only bring a lasting ridicule upon yourself, but also upon the subject you wish to maintain. Remember, too, that Mrs. B will be screened from this by your interposition: you will be the prominent person to receive the blame; she will step forth to arrest the praise. If you can defy the Reviewers, then consider whether, after so much labour, your work has a chance of being useful. Think of all these things first: these reflections are more useful in a prologue than in an epilogue. Weigh them all well, and don't be tempted by flattery."

The disadvantages appear to have preponderated, and

Mary Anne did not on this occasion write for the public. The only record of the occupations and interests of this period is contained in journals, from which I propose to make some extracts. It will be seen with what diligence Mary Anne pursued the habit of self-observation and selftraining, and that the truths which had been sown in her heart were springing up and bearing fruit.

She writes, when at Barr:

"August 28th, 1804.

"After breakfast, I walked for some time in the garden. I, however, missed my pocket Bible, which I mostly take with me. I had sent it to Bath. I often feel my mind dissipated, and unable of itself to turn inward, without some external help to fix its attention. This help I find chiefly in the contemplation of nature, in sacred music, and in the Bible; in the last, especially.

"I often find that, if I am some days without reading the Bible - however I seek the presence of our Lord my standard gradually degenerates either into coldness, or into a disposition to mysticism, and thus loses its substance; just as a singer who often practises without his instrument gets at last, without knowing it, either above or below concert pitch. I read some of my favourite passages in Isaiah, on my return, in my German Bible, and compared them with the English. . . . .. I felt indisposed

and weak, and wished for some light reading.

I want to form a plan for amusing reading, which will not be undoing what it is the object of my serious studies to do, and which may at the same time unbend the mind.

"As perception is that faculty which is first used, so,