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"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and

generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a

desire to become an actor in the busy scene where so many

admirable qualities were called forth and displayed. But in

giving an account of the progress of my intellect, I must not

omit a circumstance which occurred in the beginning of the month

of August of the same year.

"One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood

where I collected my own food and brought home firing for my

protectors, I found on the ground a leathern portmanteau

containing several articles of dress and some books. I eagerly

seized the prize and returned with it to my hovel. Fortunately

the books were written in the language, the elements of which I

had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a

volume of Plutarch's Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. The

possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now

continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories,

whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.