Another source of my enjoyments in early life was an ardent admiration of the beauties of nature. This enthusiasm was heightened by the glowing descriptions of poetic writers, and I entered into all their feelings. This taste has continued through life. At the present time, when age and experience have in some measure repressed the warmth of my feelings, and while I am now writing, I should be more delighted with beautiful rural prospects, and fine flowers, than when in early life I used to be enraptured with contemplating the sublime and beautiful in the works of creation. My early life was diversified with few events, and those of a painful nature. The loss of my excellent mother, which happened when I had reached my tenth year, was the first severe trial I was called to suffer. When her death took place, I was at an age when maternal direction is of the greatest importance, particularly in the education of daughters. Soon after, I was bereaved of an aunt, who was attached to me with almost maternal fondness. A few years after, my father failed in trade, in consequence of which I was reduced to poverty, with a constitution and early habits which appeared invincible obstacles to my supporting myself by my own exertions. Instead of that gayety, which is often attendant on youth, I was early accustomed to scenes of melancholy and distress; and every misfortune was enhanced by a radical want of health, and firmness of mind. My life passed in seclusion, with gloomy prospects before me, and surrounded with various perplexities from which I could not extricate myself. The solitude in which I lived was, however, to me, preferable to society in general; and to that, and to my natural singularity, I must impute that awkwardness of manners, of which I never could divest myself at an advanced period of life. A consciousness of this awkwardness produced a dislike to the company of strangers. Those who have been accustomed to general society when young, can scarcely imagine the trembling timidity I felt, when introduced to my superiors in circumstances and education. I, however, enjoyed society upon a small scale. I had a few dear friends, (for novels had taught me to be very romantic,) who were chiefly in indigent circumstances, and like myself had imbibed a taste for reading, and were particularly fond of poetry and novels. Most of them wrote verses, which were read and admired by the whole little circle. Our mutual love of literature, want of fortune, and indifference to the society of those whose minds were wholly uncultivated, served to cement a union between us, which was interrupted only by the removal of the parties to distant places, and dissolved only by their death. Yet I soon experienced this melancholy change. One after another became victims to the King of Terrors, till our little society was greatly diminished; and I deeply felt these bereavements which were irreparable.