my tea table, or plied her knitting needles, sometimes I read aloud, but more generally we used to talk over old times and past adventures and pleasant chat it was! Some people, if they had listened to us, might have thought there was a sameness in our conversation-a repetition of old stories, but they ever wearied us; I think I liked them better every night; and so did she.
At length, one evening, it occurred to us that what amused us so much, might perhaps amuse other people. "Suppose, we write our histories," said I, "Susan; I think we could make out three volumes of adventures before we settled down into this quiet life, which furnishes nothing to tell. In the evening, we can collect our materials and arrange our plan; and on wet days, when I can't get out, I'll put it all on paper: and we shall then be able to judge how it reads. I've a notion it wouldn't be a bad story. The world don't want extraordinary events, and improbable incidents, to amuse it now. They have found out that, 'the proper study of mankind is man;' and he who can paint real life and human nature, has the best chance of being read. It has often been said that few biographies would be uninteresting, if people would or could disclose the exact truth
B2
