He has kept me in ignorance, as much as was in his power. Reading, writing, and arithmetic is his grand system of education; after which man has nothing more to learn, except to get and to hoard money. Had it not been for the few books I bought and the many I borrowed, together with the essential instruction which thy excellent father's learning and philanthropy enabled and induced him to give me, I should probably have been as illiterate as he could have wished. A son after his own heart! One of his most frequent and most passionate reproaches is 'the time I _waste_ in reading.' I scarcely need tell thee he was almost in a rage, at my request to accompany Sir Arthur to France; stating, as I did, that it ought to be and must be at his expence. Otherwise he cares but little where I go, being rather regarded by him as a spy on his actions than as his son. Thou canst not conceive the contempt with which he treats me, for my want of cunning. He despises my sense of philanthropy, honour, and that severe probity to which no laws extend. He spurns at the possibility of preferring the good of society to the good of self--But, once again, he is my father. Prithee lend me thy Petrarch, and send it in return by Thomas. I had nothing to say, though I have written so much, except to ask for this book, and to burden thee with my complaints. Remember me kindly to thy most worthy father, and all the family. Thine, F. HENLEY LETTER IV _Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ _London, Grosvenor Street_ Oh, Louisa! I have such a narrative! Such accidents! Such--! But you shall hear. We are arrived; and, thank God and good fortune, are all alive; which, every thing considered, is no small consolation. The chaise was at the door punctually at five on Thursday morning. Abimelech Henley had been very busy with Sir Arthur over night; and was in close conference with him again previous to our departure. Frank too was there, as disconsolate and as attentive as ever; active and watchful that every thing was as it should be. How the difference between soul and soul discovers itself in such scenes! I very much fear his father treats him unkindly, and that he grieves more than he ought; nay more than a person of his youth, strong form, and still stronger mind, could be supposed to grieve. I understand he very much laments the loss of a college education, which the miser his father could very well have bestowed upon him, had not his heart been as contracted as the mouth of his purse.