rt eternal friendship for her new acquaintance, and the vow was never
broken.

Balzac, in his "Cousine Bette," says that there is no stronger passion
than the love of one woman for another. Mary Wollstonecraft's affection
for Frances Blood is a striking illustration of the truth of his
statement. It was strong as that of a Sappho for an Erinna; tender and
constant as that of a mother for her child. From the moment they met
until they were separated by poor Fanny's untimely death, Mary never
wavered in her devotion and its active expression, nor could the
vicissitudes and joys of her later life destroy her loving loyalty to the
memory of her first and dearest friend. "When a warm heart has strong
impressions," she wrote in a letter long years afterwards, "they are not
to be effaced. Emotions become sentiments; and the imagination renders
even transient sensations permanent, by fondly retracing them. I cannot
without a thrill of delight recollect views I have seen, which are not to
be forgotten, nor looks I have felt in every nerve, which I shall never
more meet. The grave has closed over a dear friend, the friend of my
youth; still she is present with me, and I hear her soft voice warbling
as I stray over the heath."

There was much to draw the two friends together. They had many miseries
and many tastes and interests in common. Fanny's parents were poor, and
her father, like Mr. Wollstonecraft, was idle and dissipated. There were
young children to be reared, and an incompetent mother to do it. Fanny
was only two years older than Mary, but was, at that time, far more
advanced mentally. Her education had been more complete. She was in a
small way both musician and artist, was fond of reading, and had even
tried her powers at writing. But her drawing had proved her most
profitable accomplishment, and by it she supported her entire family.
Mary as yet had perfected herself in nothing, and was helpless where
money-making was concerned. Her true intellectual education had but just
begun under Mr. Clare's direction. She had previously read voluminously,
but, having done so for mere immediate gratification, had derived but
little profit therefrom. As she lived in Hoxton, and Fanny in Newington
Butts, they could not see each other very often, and so in the intervals
between their visits they corresponded. Mary found that her letters were
far inferior to those of her friend. She could not spell so well; she had
none of Fanny's e