With the best propensities in the world, we may be led, either by the force of example, or real want of judgment, too far in the flowery path of pleasure. Every scene I engage in has the charm of novelty to recommend it. I see all to whom I am introduced do the same; besides, I am following the taste of Sir William; but I am (if I may be allowed to say so) too artless. Perhaps what I think is his inclination, may be only to make trial of my natural disposition. Though he may choose to live in the highest _ton_, he may secretly wish his wife a more retired turn. How then shall I act? I do every thing with a chearful countenance; but that proceeds from my desire of pleasing him. I accommodate myself to what I think his taste; but, owing to my ignorance of mankind, I may be defeating my own purpose. I once slightly hinted as much to Lady Besford. She burst out into a fit of laughter at my duteous principles. I supposed I was wrong, by exciting her mirth: this is not the method of reforming me from my errors; but thus I am in general treated. It reminds me of a character in the Spectator, who, being very beautiful, was kept in perfect ignorance of every thing, and who, when she made any enquiry in order to gain knowledge, was always put by, with, "You are too handsome to trouble yourself about such things." This, according to the present fashion, may be polite; but I am sure it is neither friendly nor satisfactory. Her ladyship, the other day, shewed me a very beautiful young woman, Lady T. "She is going to be separated from her husband," said she. On my expressing my surprize,--"Pshaw! there is nothing surprizing in those things," she added: "it is customary in this world to break through stone-walls to get together this year; and break a commandment the next to get asunder. But with regard to her ladyship, I do not know that she has been imprudent; the cause of their disagreement proceeds from a propensity she has for gaming; and my lord is resolved not to be any longer answerable for her debts, having more of that sort on his own hands than he can well discharge." Thus she favours me with sketches of the people of fashion. Alas! Louisa, are these people to make companions of?--They may, for want of better, be acquaintance, but never can be friends.