Chapter LXXX: Letter II: Henly, Thursday, Sept. 13

MY DEAR SIR,

Since I saw you, I have, literally speaking, _enjoyed_ solitude. My sister could not accompany me in my rambles; I therefore wandered alone by the side of the Thames, and in the neighbouring beautiful fields and pleasure-grounds: the prospects were of such a placid kind, I _caught_ tranquillity while I surveyed them—my mind was _still_, though active. Were I to give you an account how I have spent my time, you would smile. I found an old French bible here, and amused myself with comparing it with our English translation—then I would listen to the falling leaves, or observe the various tints the autumn gave to them. At other times, the singing of a robin, or the noise of a water-mill, engaged my attention—for I was, at the same time perhaps discussing some knotty point, or straying from this _tiny_ world to new systems. After these excursions, I returned to the family meals, to’d the children stories (they think me _vastly_ agreeable) and my sister was amused.—Well, will you allow me to call this way of passing my days pleasant?

I was just going to mend my pen; but I believe it will enable me to say all I have to add to this epistle. Have you yet heard of an habitation for me? I often think of my new plan of life; and, lest my sister should try to prevail on me to alter it, I have avoided mentioning it to her. I am determined!—Your sex generally laugh at female determinations; but let me tell you, I never yet resolved to do any thing of consequence, that I did not adhere resolutely to it, till I had accomplished my purpose, improbable as it might have appeared to a more timid mind. In the course of near nine-and-twenty years, I have gathered some experience, and felt many _severe_ disappointments—and what is the amount? I long for a little peace and _independence_! Every obligation we receive from our fellow-creatures is a new shackle, takes from our native freedom, and debases the mind, makes us mere earthworms—I am not fond of grovelling!

I am, sir, yours, &c.
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.