“I am sure,” cried Catherine, “I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?”

“Very true,” said Henry, “and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies.  Oh!  It is a very nice word indeed!  It does for everything.  Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement —­ people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice.  But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word.”

“While, in fact,” cried his sister, “it ought only to be applied to you, without any commendation at all.  You are more nice than wise.  Come, Miss Morland, let us leave him to meditate over our faults in the utmost propriety of diction, while we praise Udolpho in whatever terms we like best.  It is a most interesting work.  You are fond of that kind of reading?”

“To say the truth, I do not much like any other.”

“Indeed!”

“That is, I can read poetry and plays, and things of that sort, and do not dislike travels.  But history, real solemn history, I cannot be interested in.  Can you?”

“Yes, I am fond of history.”

“I wish I were too.  I read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me.  The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all —­ it is very tiresome:  and yet I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal of it must be invention.  The speeches that are put into the heroes’ mouths, their thoughts and designs —­ the chief of all this must be invention, and invention is what delights me in other books.”

“Historians, you think,” said Miss Tilney, “are not happy in their flights of fancy.  They display imagination without raising interest.  I am fond of history —­ and am very well contented to take the false with the true.  In the principal facts they have sources of intelligence in former histories and records, which may be as much depended on, I conclude, as anything that does not actually pass under one’s own observation; and as for the little embellishments you speak of, they are embellishments, and I like them as such.  If a speech be well drawn up, I read it with pleasure, by whomsoever it may be made —­ and probably with much greater, if the production of Mr. Hume or Mr. Robertson, than if the genuine words of Caractacus, Agricola, or Alfred the Great.”

“You are fond of history!  And so are Mr. Allen and my father; and I have two brothers who do not dislike it.  So many instances within my small circle of friends is remarkable!  At this rate, I shall not pity the writers of history any longer.  If people like to read their books, it is all very well, but to be at so much trouble in filling great volumes, which, as I used to think, nobody would willingly ever look into, to be labouring only for the torment of little boys and girls, always struck me as a hard fate; and though I know it is all very right and necessary, I have often wondered at the person’s courage that could sit down on purpose to do it.”