Dearest Florence,

Today was a most awful day. I had to study for 3, no 4 hours! It was terribly dull. Although I do enjoy reading, there is nothing that will put one to sleep faster than a French version of Shakespeare. I had to read Molière! Mr. Harris loves to tell me how much funnier Molière was than Shakespeare. I cannot even begin to describe how... unfaithful to his English culture that is! Shakespeare is the gem of English literature, even if I cannot bear to read much of his works. To say a FRENCH author is better, why, that is almost blasphemous.

To top it off, Florence, Mr. Harris had spent the entire time reading, occasionally out loud, the novel he has confiscated from me. I do not understand why he wishes to humiliate me so. He had read the passage where Sir Frank tells Lady Mary his undying love for her so passionately, it was clear he was ridiculing it.

Once my classes were over, I spent the afternoon shopping. Of course, buying new dresses should have brightened my mood, but my dear mother would not let me buy the custard yellow gown I wanted so terribly. She said I would stand out too much if I wore it. How can one stand out TOO much? Isn't this the same woman who wants me married before the year's end?

I must now speed off to dinner, we have guests, once again. They are some of my father's parters, it is a business event, but of course, the guest had to bring his son along. "He's taking over his father's business one day," my mother would say, but I know better. Both my parents and his are hoping for a match. I do hope he is at least pleasant to look at, as unkind of me as it is to write.

I must truly go,

Gabrielle Maria.

Gabrielle has named her journal Florence, because it is one of the places she would love to visit, and because she loves the name. It is also a twist on saying "Dear Diary"