LETTER XXX.
August 15.
IT is most certain that what renders one man necessary to
another, is a familiarity of taste and sentiment. I see that
Charlotte would not lose me without regret; and as to the
children, they every day ask me to come again on the morrow. I
went this afternoon to tune Charlotte's harpsichord: but I could
not contrive to do it; all the children came about me, and asked
me to tell them a story. Charlotte was desirous that I should
please them, and I told my very best tale of the prince that was
served by dwarfs. I improve by this exercise {88} myself, I
assure you, and am quite surprised at the impression these
stories make upon the children. If I invent an incident at any
time, and afterwards omit it, the little arch rogues never fail
to tell me, it was not so the first time; so that I now endeavour to
relate with great exactness, and without any pauses, and in a
tone of voice that is almost recitative. I see by this how much
an author hurts his works by altering them even for the better.
The first impression is readily received. A man will believe the
incredible, it will be engraved on his memory; and woe unto those
who would afterwards endeavour to efface it.
