These ladies, Mr.
Rambler, have had me under their government fifteen
years and a half, and have all that time been
endeavouring to deceive me by such representations
of life as I now find not to be true; but I know not
whether I ought to impute them to ignorance or
malice, as it is possible the world may be much
changed since they mingled in general conversation.
Being desirous that I should love books, they told
me, that nothing but knowledge could make me an
agreeable companion to men of sense, or qualify me
to distinguish the superficial glitter of vanity from
the solid merit of understanding; and that a habit
of reading would enable me to fill up the vacuities
of life without the help of silly or dangerous
amusements, and preserve me from the snares of idleness
and the inroads of temptation.
But their principal intention was to make me
afraid of men; in which they succeeded so well for
a time, that I durst not look in their faces, or be
left alone with them in a parlour; for they made me
fancy, that no man ever spoke but to deceive, or
looked but to allure; that the girl who suffered him
that had once squeezed her hand, to approach her a
second time, was on the brink of ruin; and that she
who answered a billet, without consulting her relations,
gave love such power over her, that she would
certainly become either poor or infamous.
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