understand, however, appeared to contradict the very few
notions she had entertained on the matter before.

It seemed as if a good view were no longer to be taken
from the top of an high hill, and that a clear blue

sky was no longer a proof of a fine day. She was
heartily ashamed of her ignorance. A misplaced shame.

Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant.
To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an

inability of administering to the vanity of others,
which a sensible person would always wish to avoid.

A woman especially, if she have the misfortune
of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can.

The advantages of natural folly in a beautiful
girl have been already set forth by the capital pen

of a sister author; and to her treatment of the subject
I will only add, in justice to men, that though to the

larger and more trifling part of the sex, imbecility in
females is a great enhancement of their personal charms,

there is a portion of them too reasonable and too well
informed themselves to desire anything more in woman

than ignorance. But Catherine did not know her own
advantages--did not know that a good-looking girl, with an

affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail
of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances

are particularly untoward. In the present instance,
she confessed and lamented her want of knowledge, declared that

she would give anything in the world to be able to draw;
and a lecture on the picturesque immediately followed,

in which his instructions were so clear that she soon
began to see beauty in everything admired by him,

and her attention was so earnest that he became perfectly
satisfied of her having a great deal of natural taste.

He talked of foregrounds, distances, and second
distances--side-screens and perspectives--lights and shades;

and Catherine was so hopeful a scholar that when they gained
the top of Beechen Cliff, she voluntarily rejected the whole

city of Bath as unworthy to make part of a landscape.
Delighted with her progress, and fearful of wearying her with

too much wisdom at once, Henry suffered the subject to decline,
and by an easy transition from a piece of rocky fragment

and the withered oak which he had placed near its summit,
to oaks in general, to forests, the enclosure of them,

waste lands, crown lands and government, he shortly
found himself arrived at politics; and from politics,

it was an easy step to silence. The general pause
which succeeded his short disquisition on the state of

the nation was put an end to by Catherine, who, in rather
a solemn tone of voice, uttered these words, "I have

heard that something very shocking indeed will soon
come out in London."

Miss Tilney, to whom this was chiefly addressed,
was startled, and hastily replied, "Indeed! And of

what nature?" "That I do not know, nor who is the author.
I have only heard that it is to be more horrible than

anything we have met with yet."
"Good heaven! Where could you hear of such a thing?"

"A particular friend of mine had an account of it in a
letter from London yesterday. It is to be uncommonly dreadful.

I shall expect murder and everything of the kind."
"You speak with astonishing composure! But I hope

your friend's accounts have been exaggerated; and if such a
design is known beforehand, proper measures will undoubtedly

be taken by government to prevent its coming to effect."
"Government," said Henry, endeavouring not to smile,

"neither desires nor dares to interfere in such matters.
There must be murder; and government cares not how much."

The ladies stared. He laughed, and added,
"Come, shall I make you understand each other, or leave

you to puzzle out an explanation as you can? No--I will
be noble. I will prove myself a man, no less by the

generosity of my soul than the clearness of my head.
I have no patience with such of my sex as disdain to let

themselves sometimes down to the comprehension of yours.
Perhaps the abilities of women are neither sound nor

acute--neither vigorous nor keen. Perhaps they may
want observation, discernment, judgment, fire, genius, and wit."

"Miss Morland, do not mind what he says; but have
the goodness to satisfy me as to this dreadful riot."

"Riot! What riot?"
"My dear Eleanor, the riot is only in your own brain.

The confusion there is scandalous. Miss Morland has been
talking of nothing more dreadful than a new publication

which is shortly to come out, in three duodecimo volumes,
two hundred and seventy-six pages in each, with a frontispiece

to the first, of two tombstones and a lantern--do you
understand? And you, Miss Morland--my stupid sister has

mistaken all your clearest expressions. You talked
of expected horrors in London--and instead of instantly

conceiving, as any rational creature would have done,
that such words could relate only to a circulating library,

she immediately pictured to herself a mob of three thousand
men assembling in St. George's Fields, the Bank attacked,

the Tower threatened, the streets of London flowing
with blood, a detachment of the Twelfth Light Dragoons (the

hopes of the nation) called up from Northampton to quell
the insurgents, and the gallant Captain Frederick Tilney,

in the moment of charging at the head of his troop,
knocked off his horse by a brickbat from an upper window.

Forgive her stupidity. The fears of the sister have added
to the weakness of the woman; but she is by no means

a simpleton in general."
Catherine looked grave. "And now, Henry," said Miss Tilney,

"that you have made us understand each other, you may
as well make Miss Morland understand yourself--unless you

mean to have her think you intolerably rude to your sister,
and a great brute in your opinion of women in general.

Miss Morland is not used to your odd ways."
"I shall be most happy to make her better acquainted

with them."
"No doubt; but that is no explanation of the present."

"What am I to do?"
"You know what you ought to do. Clear your character handsomely

before her. Tell her that you think very highly of the understanding of women."
"Miss Morland, I think very highly of the understanding

of all the women in the world--especially of those--whoever
they may be--with whom I happen to be in company."

"That is not enough. Be more serious."
"Miss Morland, no one can think more highly of

the understanding of women than I do. In my opinion,
nature has given them so much that they never find it

necessary to use more than half."
"We shall get nothing more serious from him now,

Miss Morland. He is not in a sober mood. But I do assure
you that he must be entirely misunderstood, if he can

ever appear to say an unjust thing of any woman at all,
or an unkind one of me."

It was no effort to Catherine to believe that Henry Tilney
could never be wrong. His manner might sometimes surprise,