R. A little patience, and you will understand me. As to morals, I believe that all kinds of reading are useless to people of the world: first, because the number of new books which they run through, so generally contradict each other, that their effect is reciprocally destroyed. The few choice books which deserve a second perusal, are equally ineffectual: for, if they are written in support of received opinions, they are superfluous; and if in opposition, they are of no use; they are too weak to break the chain which attaches the reader to the vices of society. A man of the world may possibly, for a moment, be led from his wonted path by the dictates of morality; but he will find so many obstacles in the way, that he will speedily return to his former course. I am persuaded there are few people, who have had a tolerable education, that have not made this essay, at least once in their lives; but, finding their efforts vain, they are discouraged from any future attempt, and consider the morality of books as the jargon of idleness. The farther we retreat from business, great cities, and numerous societies, the more the obstacles to morality diminish. There is a certain point of distance where these obstacles cease to be insurmountable and there it is that books may be of use. When we live in solitude, as we do not then read with a design to display our reading, we are less anxious to change our books, and bestow on them more reflection; and as their principles find less opposition from without, their internal impression is more effectual. In retirement, the want of occupation, obliges those who have no resource in themselves, to have recourse to books of amusement. Romances are more read in the provincial towns than at Paris, in towns less than in the country, and there they make the deepest impression: the reason is plain. Now it happens unfortunately that the books which might amuse, instruct, and console the people in retirement, who are unhappy only in their own imagination, are generally calculated to make them still more dissatisfied with their situation. People of rank and fashion are the sole personages of all our romances. The refined taste of great cities, court maxims, the splendour of luxury, and epicurean morality; these are their precepts, these their lesson of instruction. The colouring of their false virtues tarnishes their real ones. Polite manners are substituted for real duties, fine sentiments for good actions, and virtuous simplicity is deemed want of breeding.