Undoubtedly ... There Is A Meanness In

Sir Walter Elliot, Of Kellynch-hall, In Somersetshire, Was A Man Who, For His Own Amusement, Never Took Up Any Book But The Barontage; There He Found Occupation For An Idle Hour, And Consolation In A Distressed One; . . .

Give A Girl An Education And Introduce Her Properly Into The World

Without Scheming To Do Wrong, Or To Make Others Unhappy, There May Be Error And There May Be Misery. Thoughtlessness, Want Of Attention To Other People's Feelings, And Want Of Resolution, Will Do The Business.

Woman Is Fine For Her Own Satisfaction Alone. No Man Will Admire Her The More, No Woman Will Like Her The Better For It. Neatness And Fashion Are Enough For The Former, And A Something Of Shabbiness Or Impropriety Will Be Most Endearing To The Latter.

Her Form, Though Not So Correct As Her Sister's, In Having The Advantage Of Height, Was More Striking; And Her Face Was So Lovely, That When In The Common Cant Of Praise She Was Called A Beautiful Girl, Truth Was Less Violently Outraged Than Usually Happens.