RELIGION.

THOUGH the duties of religion, strictly speaking, are equal­ly binding on both sexes, yet certain differences, in their natural charac­ter and education, render some vices in your sex particularly odious. The natural hardness of our hearts, and strength of our passions inflam­ed by the uncontrouled license we are too often indulged with in our youth, are apt to render our man­ners dissolute, and make us less sus­ceptible of the finer feelings of the heart. Your superior delicacy, your modesty, and the usual severity of your education, preserve you in a measure from any temptation to those vices to which we are most subjected. The natural softness and sensibility of your dispositions par­ticularly fit you for the practice of those duties where the heart is chief­ly [Page 15] concerned. And this along with the natural warmth of your imagin­ation, renders you peculiarly sus­ceptible to the feelings of devotion.

THERE are many circumstances in your situation that peculiarly re­quire the support of religion to en­able you to act in them with spirit and propriety. Your whole life is often a life of suffering. You can­not plunge into business, or dissipate yourself in pleasure and riot, as men too often do, when under the pres­sure of misfortunes. You must bear your sorrows in silence, un­known and unpitied. You must often put on a face of serenity and cheerfulness, when your hearts are torn with anguish, or sinking in de­spair. Then your only resource is in the consolations of religion. It is chiefly owing to these, that you bear domestic misfortunes better than we do.

BUT you are sometimes in very different circumstances, that equal­ly require the restraints of religion. [Page 16] The natural vivacity, and perhaps the natural vanity of your sex, is very apt to lead you into a dissipat­ed state of life that deceives you, under the appearance of innocent pleasure, but which in reality wastes your spirits, impairs your health, weakens all the superior faculties of your minds, and often sullies your reputations. Religion, by checking this dissipation and rage for pleas­ure, enables you to draw more happiness, even from those very sources of amusement, which, when too frequently applied to, are often productive of satiety and disgust.

RELIGION is rather a matter of sentiment than reasoning. The im­portant and interesting articles of faith are sufficiently plain. Fix your attention on these, and do not meddle with controversy. If you get into that, you plunge into a chaos, from which you will never be able to extricate yourselves. It spoils the temper, and I suspect, has no good effect on the heart.

[Page 17]AVOID all books, and all conver­sation, that tend to shake your faith on those great points of religion which should serve to regulate your conduct, and on which your hopes of future and eternal happiness de­pend.

NEVER indulge yourselves in rid­icule on religious subjects; nor give countenance to it in others, by seeming diverted with what they say. This, to people of good breeding, will be a sufficient check.

I WISH you to go no farther than the scriptures for your religious opinions. Embrace those you find clearly revealed. Never perplex yourselves about such as you do not understand, but treat them with silent and becoming reverence. I would advise you to read only such religious books as are addressed to the heart, such as inspire pious and devout affections, such as are prop­er to direct you in your conduct, and not such as tend to entangle [Page 18] you in the endless maze of opinions and systems.

BE punctual in the stated per­formance of your private devotions, morning and evening. If you have any sensibility or imagination, this will establish such an intercourse between you and the supreme Be­ing, as will be of infinite conse­quence to you in life. It will com­municate an habitual cheerfulness to your tempers, give a firmness and steadiness to your virtue, and enable you to go through all the vicissitudes of human life with pro­priety and dignity.

I WISH you to be regular in your attendance on public worship, and in receiving the communion. Al­low nothing to interupt your public or private devotions, except the per­formance of some active duty in life, to which they should always give place. In your behaviour at public worship, observe an exem­plary attention and gravity.

[Page 19]THAT extreme strictness which I recommend to you in these duties, will be considered by many of your acquaintance as a superstitious at­tachment to forms; but in the ad­vices I give you on this and other subjects, I have an eye to the spirit and manners of the age. There is a levity and dissipation in the pres­ent manners, a coldness and listless­ness in whatever relates to religion, which cannot fail to infect you, un­less you purposely cultivate in your minds a contrary bias, and make the devotional taste habitual.

AVOID all grimace and ostenta­tion in your religious duties. They are the usual cloaks of hypocrisy; at least they shew a weak and vain mind.

DO not make religion a subject of common conversation in mixed companies. When it is introduced, rather seem to decline it. At the same time, never suffer any person to insult you by any foolish ribald­ry on your religious opinions, but [Page 20] shew the same resentment you would naturally do on being offered any other personal insult.—But the sur­est way to avoid this, is by a mod­est reserve on the subject, and by using no freedom with others about their religious sentiments.

CULTIVATE an enlarged charity for all mankind, however they may differ from you in their religious opinions. That difference may probably arise from causes in which you had no share, and from which you can derive no merit.

SHEW your regard to religion, by a distinguished respect to all its ministers, of whatever persuasion, who do not by their lives dishonor their profession; but never allow them the direction of your conscien­ces, lest they taint you with the narrow spirit of their party.

THE best effect of your religion will be a diffusive humanity to all in distress. Set apart a certain pro­portion of your income as sacred to charitable purposes. But in this, [Page 21] as well as in the practice of every other duty, carefully avoid ostenta­tion. Vanity is always defeating her own purposes. Fame is one of the natural rewards of virtue. Do not pursue her, and she will follow you.

DO not confine your charity to giving money. You may have ma­ny opportunities of shewing a ten­der and compassionate spirit where your money is not wanted. There is a false and unnatural refinement in sensibility, which makes some people shun the sight of every object in distress. Never indulge this, especially where your friends or ac­quaintance are concerned. Let the days of their misfortunes, when the world forgets or avoids them, be the season for you to exercise your hu­manity and friendship. The sight of human misery softens the heart, and makes it better; it checks the pride of health and prosperity, and the distress it occasions is amply compensated by the consciousness [Page 22] of doing your duty, and by the se­cret endearment which nature has annexed to all our sympathetic sor­rows.

WOMEN are greatly deceived, when they think they recommend themselves to our sex by their in­difference about religion. Even these men who are themselves unbe­lievers, dislike infidelity in you. Every man who knows human na­ture, connects a religious taste in your sex with softness and sensibili­ty of heart; at least we always con­sider the want of it as a proof of that hard and masculine spirit, which of all your faults we dislike the most. Besides, men consider your religion as one of their princi­pal securities for that female virtue in which they are most interested. If a gentleman pretends an attach­ment to any of you, and endeav­ours to shake your religious princi­ples, be assured he is either a fool, or has designs on you which he dares not openly avow.

[Page 23]YOU will probably wonder at my having educated you in a church different from my own. The rea­son was plainly this; I looked on the difference between our churches to be of no real importance, and that the preference of one to the other was a mere matter of taste. Your mother was educated in the church of England, and had an at­tachment to it, and I had a preju­dice in favour of every thing she lik­ed. It never was her desire that you should be baptised by a clergyman of the church of England, or be ed­ucated in that church. On the contrary, the delicacy of her regard to the smallest circumstance that could affect me in the eye of the world, made her anxiously insist it might be otherways. But I could not yield to her in that kind of gen­erosity. When I lost her, I became still more determined to educate you in the church, as I feel a secret plea­sure in doing every thing that ap­pears to me to express my satisfac­tion [Page 24] and veneration for her memory. I draw but a very faint and imper­fect picture of what your mother was, while I endeavour to point out what you should be. ^*

CONDUCT AND BEHAVIOR.

ONE of the chief beauties in a female character, is that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye, and is dis­concerted even at the gaze of admi­ration. I do not wish you to be in­sensible to applause. If you were, you must become, if not worse, at least less amiable women. But you may avoid being dazzled by that admiration, which yet rejoices your hearts.

WHEN a girl ceases to blush, she has lost the most powerful charm of beauty. That extreme sensibil­ity which it indicates, may be a weakness and incumbrance in our sex, as I have too often felt; but in yours it is peculiarly engaging. Pedants who think themselves phi­losophers, [Page 26] ask why a woman should blush when she is conscious of no crime? It is a sufficient answer. that Nature has made you to blush when you are guilty of no fault, and has forced us to love you be­cause you do so. Blushing is so far from being necessarily an attendant on guilt, that it is the usual com­panion of innocence.

THIS modesty, which I think so essential in your sex, will naturally dispose you to be rather silent in company, especially in a large one. People of sense and discernment will never mistake such silence for dulness. One may take a share in conversation without uttering a syl­lable. The expression in the coun­tenance shews it, and this never es­capes an observing eye.

I should be glad that you had an easy dignity in your behavior at public places, but not that confi­dent ease, that unbashed counte­nance, which seem to set the com­pany at defiance. If, while a gen­tleman [Page 27] is speaking to you, one of superior rank addresses you, do not let your eager attention and visible preference betray the flutter of your heart. Let your pride upon this occasion preserve you from that meanness into which your vanity would sink you. Consider that you expose yourselves to the ridicule of the company, and affront one gen­tleman only to swell the triumph of another, who perhaps thinks he does you an honour in speaking to you.

CONVERSE with men even of the first rank with that dignified mod­esty which may prevent the ap­proach of the most distant famili­arity, and consequently prevent them from feeling themselves your superiors.

WIT is the most dangerous talent you can possess. It must be guard­ed with great discretion and good nature, otherwise it will create you many enemies. Wit is perfectly consistent with softness and delicacy; [Page 28] yet they are seldom found unit­ed. Wit is so flattering to vanity, that they who possess it become in­toxicated and lose all self command.

HUMOUR is a different quality— It will make your company much solicited; but be cautious how you indulge it. It is a great enemy to delicacy, and still a greater one to dignity of a character. It may some­times gain you applause, but will never procure you respect.

BE even cautious in displaying your good sense. It will be thought you assume a superiority over the rest of the company. But if you happen to have any learning, keep it a profound secret, especially from the men, who generally look with a jealous and malignant eye on a woman of great parts, and a culti­vated understanding.

A MAN of real genius and can­dour is far superior to this mean­ness. But such a one will seldom fall in your way▪ and if by acci­dent he should, do not be anxious [Page 29] to shew the full extent of your knowledge. If he has any oppor­tunities of seeing you, he will soon discover it himself; and if you have any advantages of person or manner, and keep your own secret, he will probably give you credit for a great deal more than you possess. The great art of pleasing in con­versation consists in making the company pleased with themselves. You will more readily hear them talk yourselves into their good graces.

BEWARE of detraction, especially where your own sex are concerned. You are generally accused of be­ing particularly addicted to this vice; I think unjustly. Men are full as guilty of it when their inter­ests interfere. As your interests more frequently clash, and as your feelings are quicker than ours, your temptations to it are more frequent. For this reason, be particularly ten­der of the reputation of your own sex, especially when they happen [Page 30] to rival you in our regards. We look on this as the strongest proof of dignity and true greatness of mind.

SHEW a compassionate sympathy to unfortunate women, especially to those who are rendered so by the villany of men. Indulge a secret pleasure, I may say pride, in being the friends and refuge of the un­happy, but without the vanity of shewing it.

CONSIDER every species of indel­icacy in conversation as shameful in itself, and as highly disgusting to us. All double entendre is of this sort.—The dissolution of men's ed­ucation allows them to be divert­ed with a kind of wit, which yet they have delicacy enough to be shocked at, when it comes from your mouths, or even when you hear it without pain and contempt. Virgin purity is of that delicate na­ture, that it cannot hear certain things without contamination. It is always in your power to avoid [Page 31] these. No man, but a brute, or a fool would insult a woman with conversation which he sees gives her pain; nor will he dare to do it, if she resent the injury with a becom­ing spirit. There is a dignity in conscious virtue which is able to awe the most shameless and aban­doned of men.

YOU will be reproached perhaps with prudery. By prudery is gen­erally meant an affectation of deli­cacy. Now I do not wish you to affect delicacy, I wish you to possess it. At any rate it is better to run the risk of being thought ridiculous than disgusting.

THE men will complain of your reserve. They will assure you that a franker behavior would make you more amiable. But trust me, they are not sincere, when they tell you so. I acknowledge, that on some occasions it might render you more agreeable as companions, but it would make you less amiable as women: An important distinction, [Page 32] which many of your sex are not aware of. After all, I wish you to have great ease and openness in your conversation. I only point out some considerations which ought to regulate your behavior in that respect.

HAVE a sacred regard to truth: Lying is a mean and despicable vice. I have known some women of ex­cellent parts, who were so much addicted to it, that they could not be trusted in the relation of any sto­ry, especially if it contained any thing of the marvellous, or if they themselves were the heroines of the tale. This weakness did not pro­ceed from a bad heart, but was merely the effect of vanity, or an unbridled imagination. I do not mean to censure that lively embel­ishment of a humorous story which is only intended to promote inno­cent mirth.

THERE is a certain gentleness of spirit and manners extremely engag­ing in your sex; not that indiscrim­inate [Page 33] attention, that unmeaning simper which smiles on all alike. This arises, either from an affecta­tion of softness, or from perfect in­sipidity.

THERE is a species of refinement in luxury, just beginning to prevail among the gentlemen of this coun­try, to which our ladies are yet as great strangers as any women upon earth; I hope, for the honor of the sex, they may ever continue to be so: I mean the luxury of eating. It is a despicable selfish vice in men, but in your sex, it is beyond ex­pression indelicate and disgusting.

EVERY one who remembers a few years back, is sensible of a very striking change in the attention and respect formerly paid by the gentle­men to the ladies. Their drawing rooms are deserted; and after din­ner and supper, the gentlemen are impatient till they retire. How they came to loose this respect, which nature and politeness so well [Page 34] entitled them to, I shall not here particularly enquire. The revolu­tions of manners in any country depend on causes very various and complicated. I shall only observe, that the behavior of the ladies in the last age was very reserved and stately. It would now be reckoned ridiculous and formal. Whatever it was, it had certainly the effect of making them more respected.

A FINE woman, like other fine things in nature, has her proper point of view, from which she may be seen to most advantage. To fix this point, requires great judgment, and an intimate knowledge of the human heart. By the present mode of female manners, the ladies seem to expect that they shall regain their ascendency over us, by the fullest display of their personal charms, by being always in our eye at pub­lic places, by conversing with us with the same unreserved freedom as we do with one another; in short, by resembling us as nearly as they [Page 35] possibly can. But a little time and experience will shew the folly of this expectation and conduct.

THE power of a fine woman over the hearts of men, of men of the finest parts, is even beyond what she conceives. They are sensible of the pleasing illusions, but they can­not, nor do they wish to dissolve it. But if she is determined to dispel the charm, it certainly is in her power; she may soon reduce the angel to a very ordinary girl.

THERE is a native dignity in in­genuous modesty to be expected in your sex, which is your natural protection from the familiarities of the men, and which you should feel previous to the reflections that it is your interest to keep yourselves sacred from all personal freedoms. The many nameless charms and en­dearments of beauty should be re­served to bless the arms of the hap­py man to whom you give your heart, but who, if he has the least delicacy, will despise them if he [Page 36] knows that they have been prosti­tuted to fifty men before him. The sentiment, that a woman may allow all innocent freedoms, provided her virtue is secure▪ is both grossly in­delicate and dangerous, and has proved fatal to many of your sex.

LET me now recommend to your attention that elegance, which is not so much a quality itself, as the high polish of every other. It is what diffuses an ineffable grace over every look, every motion, ev­ery sentence you utter. It gives that charm to beauty, without which it generally fails to please. It is partly a personal quality, in which respect, it is the gift of nature; but I speak of it principally as a quali­ty of the mind. In a word, it is the perfection of taste in life and manners; every virtue and every excellency in their most graceful and amiable forms.

YOU may perhaps think that I want to throw every spark of nature out of your composition, and to [Page 37] make you entirely artificial. Far from it. I wish you to possess the most perfect simplicity of heart and manners. I think you may possess dignity without pride, affability without meanness, and simple ele­gance without affectation. Milton had my idea, when he says of Eve,

AMUSEMENTS.

EVERY period of life has amusements which are natural and proper to it. You may indulge the variety of your tastes in these, while you keep within the bounds of that propriety which is suitable to your sex.

SOME amusements are conducive to health, as various kinds of exer­cise: Some are connected with qualities really useful, as different kinds of women's work, and all the domestic concerns of a family; some are elegant accomplishments, as dress, dancing, music and drawing. Such books as improve your under­standing, enlarge your knowledge, and cultivate your taste, may be considered in a higher point of view than mere amusements. There [Page 39] are a variety of others, which are neither useful nor ornamental, such as play of different kinds.

I WOULD particularly recommend to you those exercises, that oblige you to be much abroad in the open air, such as walking, and riding on horseback. This will give vigour to your constitutions and a bloom to your complexions. If you ac­custom yourselves to go abroad al­ways in chairs and carriages, you will soon become so enervated, as to be unable to go out of doors with­out them.—They are like most ar­ticles of luxury, useful and agreea­ble when judiciously used; but when made habitual, they become both insipid and pernicious.

AN attention to your health is a duty you owe to yourselves and to your friends. Bad health seldom fails to have an influence on the spirits and temper. The finest ge­niuses, the most delicate minds, have very frequently a correspondent del­icacy of bodily constitution, which [Page 40] they are too apt to neglect. Their luxury lies in reading and late hours, equal enemies to health and beauty.

BUT though good health be one of the greatest blessings of life, never boast of it, but enjoy it in grateful silence. We so naturally associate the idea of female softness and deli­cacy, with a correspondent delicacy of constitution, that when a woman speaks of her great strength, her ex­traordinary appetite, her ability to bear excessive fatigue, we recoil at the description in a way she is little aware of.

THE intention of your being taught needle work, knitting, and such like, is not on account of the intrinsic value of all you can do with your hands, which is trifling, but to enable you to judge more perfectly of that kind of work, and to direct the execution of it in oth­ers. Another principal end is to enable you to fill up in a tolerable way, some of the many solitary hours you must necessarily pass at [Page 41] home. It is a great article in the happiness of life▪ to have your pleas­ures as independent of others as possible. By continually gadding abroad in search of amusement, you lose the respect of your acquaint­ances, whom you oppress with those visits▪ which, by a more discreet management, might have been courted.

THE domestic economy of a fam­ily is entirely a woman's province, and furnishes a variety of subjects for the exertion both of good sense and good taste. If you ever come to have the charge of a family, it ought to engage much of your time and attention; nor can you be ex­cused from this by any extent of fortune, though with a narrow one the ruin that follows the neglect of it may be more immediate.

I AM at the greatest loss what to advise you in regard to books; there is no impropriety in your reading history or cultivating any art or sci­ence [Page 42] to which genius or accident lead you. The whole volume of Nature lies open to your eye, and furnishes an infinite variety of en­tertainment. If I was sure that Na­ture had given you such strong principles of taste and sentiment▪ as would remain with you, and influ­ence your future conduct, with the utmost pleasure would I endeavour to direct your reading in such a way as might form that taste to the ut­most perfection of truth and ele­gance—"But when I reflect how easy it is to warm a girl's imagina­tion, and how difficult deeply and permanently to affect her heart; how readily she enters into every refinement of sentiment, and how easy she can sacrifice them to vanity or convenience; I think I may very probably do you an injury by arti­ficially creating a taste, which, if Nature never gave it you, would only serve to embarrass your future conduct. I do not want to make you any thing; I want to know [Page 43] what Nature has made you, and to perfect you on her plan. I do not wish you to have sentiments that might perplex you: I wish you to have sentiments that may uniformly and steadily guide you, and such as your hearts so thoroughly approve▪ that you would not forego them for any consideration this world may offer.

DRESS is an important article in female life—The love of dress is natural to you, and therefore it is proper and reasonable. Good sense will regulate your expense in it; and good taste will direct you to dress in such a way, as to conceal any blemishes, and set off your beauties, if you have any, to the greatest advantage. But much del­icacy and judgment are required in the application of this rule. A fine woman shews her charms to most advantage, when she seems most to conceal them. The finest bosom in nature is not so fine as what imagination forms. The most [Page 44] perfect elegance of dress appears always the most easy, and the least studied.

DO not confine your attention to dress▪ to your public appearance. Accustom yourselves to an habitual neatness, so that in the most careless undress, in your most unguarded hours, you may have no reason to be ashamed of your appearance. You will not easily believe how much we consider your dress as ex­pressive of your characters. Vanity, levity▪ slovenliness▪ folly, appear through it. And an elegant sim­plicity is an equal proof of taste and delicacy.

IN dancing▪ the principal points you are to attend to are ease and grace. I would have you dance with spirit; but never allow your­selves to be so far transported with mirth, as to forget the delicacy of your sex. Many a girl dancing in the gaiety and innocence of her heart, is thought to discover a spirit she little dreams of.

[Page 45]I KNOW no entertainment that gives such pleasure to any person of sentiment and humour, as the thea­tre. But I am sorry to say there are few English comedies a lady can see, without a shock to delicacy. You will not readily suspect the comments gentlemen make on your behavior on such occasions. Men are often best acquainted with the most worthless of your sex▪ and from them too readily form their judgment of the rest. A virtuous girl often hears very indelicate things with a countenance no wise embar­rassed▪ because in truth she does not understand them. Yet this is most ungenerously ascribed to that command of features, and that ready presence of mind, which you are thought to possess in a degree far beyond us; or, by still more malignant observers, it is ascribed to hardened effrontery.

SOMETIMES a girl laughs with all the simplicity of unsuspecting in­nocence, for no other reason but be­ing [Page 46] infected with other people's laughing; she is then believed to know more than she should do. If she does happen to understand an improper thing, she suffers a very complicated distress; she feels her modesty hurt in the most sensible manner, and at the same time is ashamed of appearing conscious of the injury. The only way to avoid these inconveniences, is never to go to a play that is particularly offen­sive to delicacy.—Tragedy subjects you to such distress.—Its sorrows will soften and ennoble your hearts.

I NEED say little about gaming, the ladies in this country being as yet almost strangers to it.—It is a ruinous and incurable vice; and as it leads to all the selfish and turbu­lent passions, is peculiarly odious in your sex. I have no objection to your playing a little at any kind of game, as a variety in your a­musements, provided that what you can possibly lose is such a trifle as [Page 47] can neither interest you, nor hurt you.

IN this, as well as in all import­ant points of conduct, shew a deter­mined resolution and steadiness. This is not in the least inconsistent with that softness and gentleness so amiable in your sex. On the con­trary, it gives that spirit to a mild and sweet disposition, without which it is apt to degenerate into insipidi­ty! It makes you respectable in your own eyes, and dignifies you in ours.

FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, MAR­RIAGE.

THE luxury and dissipa­tion that prevails in genteel life, as it corrupts the heart in many res­pects, so it renders it incapable of warm, sincere, and steady friend­ship. A happy choice of friends will be of the utmost consequence to you▪ as they may assist you by their advice and good offices. But the immediate gratification which friendship affords to a warm▪ open, and ingenuous heart, is of itself a sufficient motive to court it.

IN the choice of your friends, have your principal regard to good­ness of heart and fidelity. If they also possess taste and genius, that will still make them more agreeable and useful companions. You have [Page 49] particular reason to place confi­dence in those who have shewn af­fection for you in your early days, when you were incapable of mak­ing them any return. This is an obligation for which you cannot be too grateful. When you read this, you will naturally think of your mother's friend, to whom you owe so much.

IF you have the good fortune to meet with any who deserve the name of friends, unbosom your­selves to them with the most unsus­picious confidence. It is one of the world's maxims, never to trust any person with a secret, the dis­covery of which could give you any pain; but it is the maxim of a lit­tle mind and a cold heart, unless where it is the effect of frequent disappointments and bad usage. An open temper, if restrained by toler­able prudence, will make you, on the whole, much happier than a re­served, suspicious one, although you [Page 50] may sometimes suffer by it. Cold­ness and distrust are but two cer­tain consequences of age and expe­rience; but they are unpleasant feelings and need not be anticipat­ed before their time.

BUT however open you may be in talking of your own affairs, nev­er disclose the secrets of one friend to another. These are sacred de­posits, which do not belong to you, nor have you any right to make use of them.

THERE is another case in which I suspect it is proper to be secret, not so much from motives of prudence as delicacy; I mean in love matters. Though a woman has no reason to be ashamed of an attachment to a man of merit, yet Nature, whose authority is superior to philosophy, has annexed a sense of shame to it. It is even long before a woman of delicacy dares avow to her own heart that she loves; and when all the subterfuges of ingenuity to con­ceal it from herself fail, she feels a [Page 51] violence done both to her pride and to her modesty. This I should im­agine, must always be the case when she is not sure of a return to her attachment.

IN such a situation, to lay the heart open to any person whatever, does not appear to me consistent with the perfection of female del­icacy. But perhaps I am wrong. At the same time I must tell you, that in point of prudence it con­cerns you to attend well to the con­sequences of such a discovery. These secrets, however important in your own estimation, may appear very trifling to your friend, who possibly will not enter into your feelings, but may rather consider them as a subject of pleasantry. for this reason, love secrets are of all others the worst kept. But the consequences to you may be very serious, as no man of spirit and del­icacy ever valued a heart much hackneyed in the ways of love.

[Page 52]IF, therefore, you must have a friend to pour out your heart to, be sure of her honour and secrecy. Let her not be a married woman, especially if she lives happily with her husband. There are certain unguarded moments, in which such a woman, though the best and wor­thiest of her sex, may let hints es­cape, which at other times, or to any other person than her husband, she would be incapable of; nor will a husband in this case feel himself under the same obligation of secrecy and honour, as if you had put your confidence originally in himself, especially on a subject which the world is apt to treat so lightly.

IF all other circumstances are equal, there are obvious advanta­ges in your making friends of one another. The ties of blood, and your being so much united in one common interest, form an addition­al bond of union to your friendship. If your brothers should have the good fortune to have hearts suscep­tible [Page 53] of friendship, to possess truth, honour, sense and delicacy of senti­ment, they are of the fittest and most unexceptionable confidants. By placing confidence in them, you will receive every advantage which you could hope for from the friend­ship of men, without any of the in­conveniences that attend such con­nexions with our sex.

BEWARE of making confidants of your servants. Dignity not prop­erly understood very readily degen­erates into pride, which enters into no friendships, because it cannot bear an equal, and is so fond of flattery as to grasp at it even from servants and dependants. The most intimate confidants, therefore, of proud people, are valets de cham­bre and waiting women. Shew the utmost humanity to your servants; make their situation as comfortable to them as possible; but if you make them your confidants, you spoil them, and debase yourselves.

[Page 54]NEVER allow any person, under the pretended sanction of friendship, to be so familiar as to lose a prop­er respect to you. Never allow them to teaze you on any subject that is disagreeable, or where you have once taken your resolution. Many will tell you, that this reserve is inconsistent with the freedom which friendship allows. But a certain respect is as necessary in friendship as in love.—Without it, you may be liked as a child, but you will never be beloved as an e­qual.

THE temper and dispositions of the heart in your sex make you en­ter more readily and warmly into friendships than men.—Your natur­al propensity to it is so strong, that you often run into intimacies which you soon have sufficient cause to re­pent of; and this makes your friend­ships so very fluctuating.

ANOTHER great obstacle to the sincerity as well as steadiness of your friendship, is the great clash­ing [Page 55] of your interests in the pursuits of love, ambition or vanity. For these reasons, it would appear at first view more eligible for you to contract your friendships with the men. Among other obvious ad­vantages of an easy intercourse be­tween the two sexes, it occasions an emulation and exertion in each to excel and be agreeable: Hence their respective excellences are mutually communicated and blended. As their interests in no degree inter­fere, there can be no foundation for jealousy or superstition of rival­ship. The friendship of a man for a woman is always blended with a tenderness, which he never feels for one of his own sex▪ even where love is in no degree concerned. Besides, we are conscious of a natural title you have to our protection and good offices, and therefore we feel an additional obligation of honour to serve you, and to observe an in­violable secrecy, whenever you con­fide in us.

[Page 56]BUT apply these observations with great caution. Thousands of women of the best hearts and finest parts, have been ruined by men who approach them under the specious name of friendship. But supposing a man to have the most undoubted honour, yet his friendship to a wo­man is so near akin to love, that if she be very agreeable in her person, she will probably very soon find a lover, where she only wished to meet a friend. Let me here, however, warn you against that weakness so common among vain women, the imagination that every man who takes particular notice of them is a lover. Nothing can expose you more to ridicule than the taking up a man on the suspicion of being your lover, who perhaps never once thought of you in that view, and giving yourselves those airs so com­mon among silly women on such occasions.

THERE is a kind of unmeaning gallantry, much practised by some [Page 57] men, which, if you have any dis­cernment, you will find really very harmless. Men of this sort will at­tend you to public places, and be useful to you by a number of little observations, which those of a supe­rior class do not so well understand, or have no leisure to regard, or perhaps are too proud to submit to. Look on the compliments of such men, as words of course, which they repeat to every agreeable woman of their acquaintance. There is a fa­miliarity they are apt to assume▪ which a proper dignity in your be­haviour will be easily able to check.

THERE is a different species of men, whom you may like as agreea­ble companions, men of worth, taste, and genius, whose conversa­tion, in some respects, may be su­perior to what you generally meet with among your own sex. It will be foolish in you to deprive your­selves of an useful and agreeable acquaintance, merely because idle [Page 58] people say he is your lover. Such a man may like your company, without having any design on your person.

PEOPLE, whose sentiments, and particularly whose tastes corres­pond, naturally like to associate to­gether, although neither of them have the most distant view of any farther connexion. But as this similarity of minds often gives rise to a more tender attachment than friendship, it will be prudent to keep a watchful eye over your­selves, lest your hearts become too far engaged before you are aware of it. At the same time, I do not think, that your sex, at least in this part of the world, have much of that sensibility which disposes to such attachments. What is com­monly called love among you, is rather gratitude, and a partiality to the man who prefers you to the rest of your sex, and such a man you often marry, with little of either personal esteem or affection. In­deed, [Page 59] without an unusual share of natural sensibility, and very pecu­liar good fortune, a woman in this country has very little probability of marrying for love.

IT is a maxim laid down among you, and a very prudent one it is, that love is not to begin on your part, but is entirely to be the con­sequence of our attachment to you. Now, supposing a woman to have sense and taste, she will not find many men to whom she can possi­bly be supposed to bear any consid­erable share of esteem. Among these few it is a very great chance if any of them distinguishes her particularly. Love, at least with us, is exceedingly capricious, and will not always six where reason says it should. But supposing one of them should become particularly attached to her, it is extremely im­probable that he should be the man in the world her heart most approv­ed of.

[Page 60]AS, therefore, Nature has not giv­en that unlimited range in your choice, which we enjoy, she has wisely and benevolently assigned to you a greater flexibility of taste on this subject. Some agreeable qual­ities recommend a gentleman to your common good liking and friendship. In the course of his ac­quaintance, he contracts an attach­ment to you. When you perceive it, it excites your gratitude; this gratitude rises into a preference, and this preference perhaps at last ad­vances to some degree of attach­ment; especially if it meets with crosses and difficulties; for these, and a state of suspense, are very great incitements to attachment, and are the food of love, in both sexes. If attachment was not excited in your sex in this manner, there is not one of a million of you that could ever marry with any degree of love.

A MAN of taste and delicacy mar­ries a woman because he loves her [Page 61] more than any other. A woman of equal taste and delicacy marries him because she esteems him, and because he gives her that preference. But if a man unfortunately becomes attached to a woman whose heart is secretly preengaged, his attach­ment, instead of obtaining a suita­ble return, is particularly offensive; and if he persists to tease her, he makes himself equally the object of her scorn and aversion.

THE effects of love among men are diversified by their different tempers. An artful man may counterfeit every one of them so as easily to impose on a young girl, of an open▪ generous and feeling heart, if she is not extremely on her guard. The finest parts in such a girl may not always prove sufficient for her security. The dark and crooked paths of cunning are unsearchable and inconceivable to an honourable and elevated mind.

THE following, I apprehend, are the most genuine effects of an hon­ourable [Page 62] passion among the men, and the most difficult to counterfeit. A man of delicacy often betrays his passions by his too great anxiety to conceal it, especially if he has little hopes of success. True love in all its stages seeks concealment, and never expects success. It renders a man not only respectful but timid to the highest degree in his behav­iour to the woman he loves. To conceal the awe he stands in of her, he may sometimes affect pleasantry, but it sits awkwardly on him, and he quickly relapses into seriousness, if not into dulness. He magnifies all her real perfections in his imag­ination, and is either blind to her failings, or converts them into beau­ties. Like a person conscious of guilt; he is jealous that every eye observes him▪ and to avoid this, he shuns all the little observances of common gallantry.

HIS heart and his character will be improved in every respect by his attachment. His manners will [Page 63] become more gentle, and his con­versation more agreeable; but diffi­dence and embarassment will al­ways make him appear to disad­vantage in the company of his mis­tress. If the fascination continue long, it will totally depress his spir­its, and extinguish every active, vigorous, and manly principle of his mind. You will find this sub­ject beautifully and pathetically painted in Thompson's Spring.

WHEN you observe in a gentle­man's behavior these marks which I have described above, reflect seri­ously what you are to do. If his attachment is agreeable to you, I leave you to do as nature, good sense, and delicacy shall direct you. If you love him, let me advise you never to discover to him the full extent of your love, no not al­though you marry him. That suf­ficiently shews your preference, which is all he is entitled to know. If he has delicacy, he will ask no stronger proof of your affection for [Page 64] your sake; if he has sense he will not ask it for his own. This is an unpleasant truth, but it is my duty to let you know it. Violent love cannot subsist, at least cannot be expressed, for any time together on both sides; otherwise the certain consequence, however concealed, is satiety and disgust. Nature in this case, has laid the reserve on you.

IF you see evident proofs of a gentleman's attachment, and are de­termined to shut your heart against him, as you ever hope to be used with generosity by the person who may engage your own heart, treat him honorably and humanely. Do not let him linger in a miserable suspense, but be anxious to let him know your sentiments with regard to him.

HOWEVER people's hearts may deceive them, there is scarcely a per­son that can love for any time with­out at least some distant hope of success. If you really wish to un­deceive a lover, you may do it in a [Page 65] variety of ways. There is a certain species of easy familiarity in your behavior, which may satisfy him, if he has any discernment left, that he has nothing to hope for. But per­haps your particular temper may not admit of this. You may easily shew that you want to avoid his company; but if he is a man whose friendship you wish to preserve, you may not choose this method, be­cause then you lose him in every capacity. You may get a common friend to explain matters to him, or fall on many other devices, if you are seriously anxious to put him out of suspense.

BUT if you are resolved against every such method, at least do not shun opportunities of letting him explain himself. If you do this, you act barbarously and unjustly. If he brings you to an explanation, give him a polite, but a resolute and decisive answer. In whatever way you convey your sentiments to him, [Page 66] if he is a man of spirit and delica­cy, he will give you no farther trouble, nor apply to your friends for their intercession. This last is a method of courtship which every man of spirit will disdain. He will never whine nor sue for your pity. That would mortify him al­most as much as your scorn. In short, you may possibly break such a heart, but you can never bend it. —Great pride always accompanies delicate minds, however concealed under the appearance of the utmost gentleness and modesty, and is the passion of all others the most diffi­cult to conquer.

THERE is a case where a woman may coquet justifiably to the utmost verge which her conscience will al­low. It is where a gentleman pur­posely declines to make his address­es, till such time as he thinks him­self perfectly sure of her consent. This at the bottom is intended to force a woman to give up the un­doubted privilege of her sex, the [Page 67] privilege of refusing; it is intend­ed to force her to explain herself, in effect, before the gentleman deigns to do it, and by this means oblige her to violate the modesty and delicacy of her sex, and to in­vert the clearest order of nature.

ALL this sacrifice is proposed to be made, merely to gratify a most despicable vanity, in a man who would degrade the very woman whom he wishes to make his wife.

IT is of great importance to dis­tinguish, whether a gentleman who has the appearance of being your lover, delays to speak explicitly, from the motive I have mentioned, or from a diffidence inseparable from true attachment. In the one case you can scarcely use him too ill; in the other you ought to use him with great kindness; and the greatest kindness you can shew him, if you are determined not to listen to his addresses▪ is to let him know it as soon as possible.

[Page 68]I KNOW the many excuses with which women endeavour to justify themselves to the world, and to their own consciences, when they act otherwise. Sometimes they plead ignorance, or at least uncer­tainty, of the gentleman's real sen­timents. That may sometimes be the case.—Sometimes they plead the decorum of their sex, which enjoins an equal behavior to all men, and forbids them to consider any man as a lover till he has di­rectly told them so. Perhaps few women carry their ideas of female delicacy and decorum so far as I do. But I must say you are not entitled to plead the obligation of these virtues, in opposition to the superior ones of gratitude, justice and humanity. The man is entitled to all these, who press you to the rest of your sex, and perhaps whose greatest weakness is this very pref­erence. The truth of the matter is, vanity and the love of admiration is so prevailing a passion among you▪ [Page 69] that you may be considered to make a very great sacrifice, till you give up a lover, whenever every art of coquetry fails to keep him, or till he forces you to an explanation. You can be fond of love, when you are indifferent to, or even when you despise the lover.

BUT the deepest and most artful coquetry is employed by women of superior taste and sense, to engage and fix the heart of a man whom the world and whom they them­selves esteem▪ although they are firmly determined never to marry him. But his conversation amuses them, and his attachment is the highest gratification to their vanity; nay, they can sometimes be gratifi­ed with the utter ruin of his fortune, same and happiness. God forbid I should ever think so of all your sex! I know many of them have principles, have generosity and dig­nity of soul that elevates them above the worthless vanity I have been speaking of.

[Page 70]SUCH a woman, I am persuaded, may always convert a lover, if she cannot give him her affections, in­to a warm and steady friend, pro­vided he is a man of sense, resolu­tion and candour. If she explains herself to him with a generous open­ness and freedom, he must feel the stroke as a man; but he will like­wise bear it as a man! what he suf­fers, he will suffer in silence. Ev­ery sentiment of esteem will remain; but love, though it requires very little food, and is easily surfeited with too much, yet it requires some. He will view her in the light of a married woman and though passion subsides, yet a man of a candid and generous heart, always retains a ten­derness for a woman he has once loved, and who has used him well, beyond what he feels for any oth­er of her sex.

IF he has not confined his own secrets to any body, he has an un­doubted title to ask you not to di­vulge it. If a woman chooses to [Page 71] trust any of her companions with her own unfortunate attachments, she may, as it is her own affair a­lone; but if she has any generosity or gratitude, she will not betray a se­cret which does not belong to her.

MALE coquetry is much less in­excusable than female, as well as more pernicious; but it is rare in this country. Very few men will give themselves the trouble to gain or retain any woman's affections, unless they have views on them, ei­ther of an honorable or dishonora­ble kind. Men employed in the pursuit of business, ambition, or pleasure, will not give themselves the trouble to engage a woman's af­fections merely from the vanity of conquest, and of triumphing over the heart of an innocent and de­fenceless girl. Besides people nev­er value much what is entirely in their power. A man of parts, sen­timent, and address, if he lays aside all regard to truth and humanity, may engage the hearts of fifty wom­en [Page 72] at the same time, and may likewise conduct his coquetry with so much art, as to put it out of the power of any of them to specify a single expression which could be said to be directly expressive of love. This ambiguity of behavior, this art of keeping one in suspense, is the greatest secret of coquetry in both sexes. It is the more cruel in us, because we can carry it to what length we please, without your be­ing so much at liberty to complain or expostulate; whereas we can break our chain, and force you to explain, whenever we become im­patient of our situation.

I HAVE insisted the more particu­larly on this subject of courtship▪ because it may most readily happen to you, at that early period of life, when you can have little experience or knowledge of the world; when your passions are warm▪ and your judgments not arrived at such full maturity as to be able to correct them;—I wish you to possess such [Page 73] high principles of honour and gen­erosity, as will render you incapa­ble of deceiving, and at the same time to possess that acute discern­ment which may secure you against being deceived.

A WOMAN, in this country, may easily prevent the first impressions of love; and every motive of pru­dence and delicacy should make her guard her heart against them, till such time as she has received the most convincing proofs of the at­tachment of a man of such merit, as will justify a reciprocal regard. Your hearts, indeed, may be shut inflexibly and permanently, against all the merit a man can possess. That may be your misfortune, but cannot be your fault. In such a situation, you would be equally un­just to yourself and your lover, if you gave him your hand when your heart revolted against him. But miserable will be your fate, if you allow an attachment to steal on you [Page 74] before you are sure of return; or, what is infinitely worse, where there are wanting those qualities which alone can ensure happiness in a married state.

I KNOW nothing that renders a woman more despicable than her thinking it essential to happiness to be married. Besides the gross in­delicacy of the sentiment, it is a false one, as thousands of women have experienced. But if it was true, the belief that it is so, and the consequent impatience to be married, is the most effectual way to prevent it.

YOU must not think from this, that I do not wish you to marry. On the contrary, I am of opinion, that you may attain a superior de­gree of happiness in a married state, to what you can possibly find in any other. I know the forlorn and unprotected situation of an old maid▪ the chagrin and peevishness which are apt to infect their tem­pers, and the great difficulty of [Page 75] making a transition with dignity and chearfulness, from the period of youth, beauty, admiration and res­pect, into the calm, silent, unno­ticed retreat of declining years.

I SEE some unmarried women of active vigorous minds, and great vivacity of spirits, degrading them­selves; sometimes by entering into a dissipated course of life, unsuita­ble to their years, and exposing themselves to the ridicule of girls, who might have been their grand­children; sometimes by oppressing their acquaintances by impertinent intrusions into their private affairs; and sometimes by being propagators of scandal and defamation. All this is owing to an exuberant activ­ity of spirit, which if it had found employment at home, would have rendered them respectable and use­ful members of society.

I SEE other women, in the same situation, gentle, modest, blessed with sense, taste, delicacy and eve­ry milder feminine virtue of the [Page 76] heart, but of weak spirits, bashful and timid; I see such women sink­ing into obscurity and insignificance, and gradually losing every elegant accomplishment; for this evident reason, that they are not united to a partner who has sense, and worth, and taste to know their value; one who is not able to draw forth their concealed qualities, and shew them to advantage; who can give that support to their feeble spirits which they stand so much in need of; and who, by his affection and tender­ness, might make such a woman happy in exerting every talent and accomplishing herself in every ele­gant art that could contribute to his amusement.

IN short, I am of opinion, that a married state, if entered into from proper motives of esteem and af­fection, will be the happiest for yourselves, make you most respect­able in the eyes of the world, and the most useful members of society. But I confess I am not enough of a [Page 77] patriot to wish you to marry for the good of the public. I wish you to marry for no other reason but to make yourselves happy. When I am so particular in my advices about your conduct, I own my heart beats with the fond hope of making you worthy the attachment of men who will deserve you, and be sensible of your merit. But Heaven forbid you should ever relinquish the ease and independence of a single life, to become the slaves of a fool or a ty­rant's caprice.

AS these have always been my sentiments, I shall do but justice, when I leave you in such independ­ent circumstances as may lay you under no temptation to do from necessity what you would never do from choice.—This will likewise save you from that cruel mortifica­tion to a woman of spirit, the suspi­cion that a gentleman thinks he does you an honor or a favor when he asks you for his wife.

[Page 78]IF I live till you arrive at that age when you shall be capable to judge for yourselves, and do not strangely alter my sentiments▪ I shall act towards you in a very dif­ferent manner from what most pa­rents do. My opinion has always been, that when that period arrives, the parental authority ceases.

I HOPE I shall always treat you with that affection and easy confi­dence which may dispose you to look on me as your friend. In that capacity alone I shall think myself entitled to give you my o­pinion; in the doing of which, I should think myself highly criminal, if I did not to the utmost of my power endeavour to divest myself of all personal vanity, and all prejudi­ces in savor of my particular taste. If you did not choose to follow my advice, I should not on that account cease to love you as my children. Though my right to your obedience was expired, yet I should think noth­ing [Page 79] could release me from the ties of nature and humanity.

YOU may perhaps imagine, that the reserved behavior which I rec­ommend to you, and your appear­ing seldom at public places, must cut off all opportunities of your be­ing acquainted with gentlemen. I am very far from intending this. I advise you to no reserve, but what will render you more respected and beloved by our sex. I do not think public places suited to make people acquainted together. They can on­ly be distinguished there by their looks and external behavior. But it is in private companies alone where you can expect easy and agreeable conversation, which I should never wish you to decline. If you do not allow gentlemen to become acquainted with you, you can never expect to marry with at­tachment on either side.—Love is very seldom produced at first sight; at least it must have, in that case, a very unjustifiable foundation. [Page 80] True love is founded on esteem, in a correspondence of tastes and sen­timents, and steals on the heart im­perceptibly.

THERE is one advice I shall leave you, to which I beg your particu­lar attention. Before your affec­tions come to be in the least engag­ed to any man, examine your tem­pers, your tastes and your hearts, very severely, and settle in your own minds what are the requisites to your happiness in a married state; and as it is almost impossible that you should get every thing you wish, come to a steady determina­tion what you are to consider as es­sential, and what may be sacrificed.

IF you have hearts disposed by Nature for love and friendship, and possess those feelings which enable you to enter into all the refinements and delicacies of these attachments, consider well, for Heaven's sake, and as you value your future hap­piness, before you give them any indulgence. If you have the mis­fortune [Page 81] (for a very great misfortune it commonly is to your sex) to have such a temper and such sentiments deeply rooted in you—if you have spirit and resolution to resist the solicitations of vanity, the persecu­tions of friends, (for you will have lost the only friend that would nev­er persecute you) and can support the prospect of the many inconve­niences attending the state of an old maid, which I formerly pointed out, then you may indulge yourselves in that kind of sentimental reading and conversation, which is most corespondent to your feelings.

BUT if you find on a strict self ex­amination, that marriage is abso­lutely essential to your happiness, keep the secret inviolable in your own bosoms, for the reason I for­merly mentioned; but shun▪ as you would do the most fatal poison, all that species of reading and conver­sation which warms the imagina­tion, which engages and softens the [Page 82] heart, and raises the taste above the level of common life. If you do otherwise, consider the terrible con­flict of passions this may afterwards raise in your breasts.

IF this refinement once takes deep root in your minds, and you do not obey its dictates, but marry from vulgar and mercenary views, you may never be able to eradicate it entirely, and then it will embitter all your married days. Instead of meeting with sense, delicacy, tender­ness, a lover, a friend, an equal companion, in a husband, you may be tired with insipidity and dull­ness; shocked with indelicacy, or mortified by indifference. You will find none to compassionate, or even understand your sufferings; for your husbands may not use you cruelly, and may give you as much money for your clothes, personal expense and domestic necessaries, as is suitable to their fortunes. The world would therefore look on you as unreasonable women, and who [Page 83] did not deserve to be happy, if you were not so.—To avoid these com­plicated evils, if you are determin­ed at all events to marry, I would advise you to make all your read­ing and amusements of such a kind as do not affect the heart, nor the imagination, except in the way of wit and humour.

I HAVE no view by these advices to lead your tastes; I only want to persuade you of the necessity of knowing your own minds, which, though seemingly very easy, is what your sex seldom attain on many important occasions in life, but particularly on this of which I am speaking. There is not a quality I more anxiously wish you to possess, than that collected decisive spirit which rests on itself, which enables you to see where your true happiness lies, and to pursue it with the most determined resolution. In matters of business, follow the advice of those who know them better than yourselves, and in whose integrity [Page 84] you can confide; but in matters of taste, that depend on your own feelings, consult no one friend what­ever, but consult your own hearts.

IF a gentleman makes his address­es to you, or gives you reason to believe he will do so, before you allow your affections to be engaged, endeavour, in the most prudent and secret manner, to procure from your friends every necessary piece of information concerning him; such as his character for sense, his morals, his temper, fortune and family; whether it is distinguished for parts and worth, or folly knave­ry, and lothesome hereditary diseas­es. When your friends inform you of these they have fulfilled their duty. If they go farther, they have not that deference for you which a becoming dignity on your part would effectually command.

WHATEVER your views are in marrying, take every possible pre­caution to prevent their being disap­pointed. If fortune, and the pleas­ures [Page 85] it brings, are your aim, it is not sufficient that the settlements of a jointure and children's provisions be ample, and properly secured; it is neeessary you should enjoy the fortune during your own life. The principal security you can have for this will depend on your marrying a good natured generous man, who despises money, and who will let you live where you can best enjoy that pleasure▪ that pomp and parade of life for which you married him.

FROM what I have said, you will easily see, that I could never pre­tend to advise whom you should marry; but I can with great con­fidence advise whom you should not marry.

AVOID a companion that may entail any hereditary disease on your posterity, particularly (that most dreadful of all human calam­ities) madness. It is the height of imprudence to run into such a dan­ger, and, in my opinion, highly criminal.

[Page 86]DO not marry a fool; he is the most untractable of all animals; he is led by his passions and capri­ces▪ and is incapable of hearing the voice of reason. It may probably, too, hurt your vanity to have hus­bands for whom you have reason to blush and tremble every time they open their lips in company. But the worst circumstance that attends a fool▪ is, his constant jealousy of his wife being the thought to gov­ern him. This renders it impos­sible to lead him; and he is contin­ually doing absurd and disagreeable things, for no other reason but to shew he dares to do them.

A RAKE is always a suspicious husband▪ because he has only known the most worthless of your sex. He likewise entails the worst of dis­eases on his wife and children, if he has the misfortune to have any.

If you have a sense of religion yourselves, do not think of hus­bands who have none. If they have tolerable understandings they [Page 87] will be glad that you have religion, for their own sakes, and for the sakes of their families; but it will sink you in their esteem. If they are weak men, they will be contin­ually teazing and shocking you about your principles.—If you have children, you will suffer the most bitter distress, in seeing all your en­deavours to form their minds to virtue and piety, all your endeav­ours to secure their present and eternal happiness frustrated, and turned into ridicule.

AS I look on your choice of a hus­band to be of the greatest conse­quence to your happiness, I hope you will make it with the utmost circumspection. Do not give way to a sudden sally of passion, and dignify it with the name of love.— Genuine love is not founded in ca­price; it is sounded in nature, on honorable views, on virtue, on sim­ilarity of tastes and sympathy of souls.

[Page 88]IF you have these sentiments, you will never marry any one, when you are not in that situation, in point of fortune, which is necessary to the happiness of either of you.

What that competency may be, can only be determined by your own tastes. It would be ungener­ous in you to take advantage of a lover's attachment, to plunge him into distress; and if he has any hon­or, no personal gratification will ev­er tempt him to enter into any con­nexion which will render you un­happy. If you have as much be­tween you as to satisfy all your de­mands, it is sufficient.

I SHALL conclude with endeav­ouring to remove a difficulty which must naturally occur to any wom­an of reflection on the subject of marriage. What is to become of all these refinements of delicacy, that dignity of manners, which checked all familiarities, and sus­pended desire in respectful and aw­ful admiration? In answer to this, [Page 89] I shall only observe, that if motives of interest or vanity have had any share in your resolutions to marry, none of these chimerical notions will give you any pain; nay, they will very quickly appear as ridicu­lous in your own eyes, as they prob­ably always did in the eyes of your husbands. They have been senti­ments which have floated in your imaginations, but have never reach­ed your hearts. But if these senti­ments have been truly genuine, and if you have had the singular happy fate to attach those who understood them, you have no reason to be a­fraid.

MARRIAGE, indeed, will at once dispel the enchantment raised by external beauty; but the virtues and graces that first warmed the heart, that reserve and delicacy which al­ways left the lover something far­ther to wish, and often made him doubtful of your sensibility or at­tachment, may and ought ever to [Page 90] remain. The tumult of passion will necessarily subside; but it will be succeeded by an endearment that affects the heart in a more equal, more sensible, and tender manner. —But I must check myself, and not indulge in descriptions that may mislead you, and that too sensibly awake the remembrance of my hap­pier days, which, perhaps, it were better for me to forget forever.

I HAVE thus given you my opin­ion on some of the most important articles of your future life, chiefly calculated for that period when you are just entering the world. I have endeavoured to avoid some peculi­arities of opinion, which, from their contradiction to the general practice of the world, I might reasonably have suspected were not so well founded. But in writing to you, I am afraid my heart has been too full, and too warmly interested, to allow me to keep this resolution. This may have procuced some em­barrassment, and some seeming con­tradiction. [Page 91] What I have written has been the amusement of some solitary hours, and has served to divert some melancholy reflections. —I am conscious I undertook a task to which I was very unequal; but I have discharged a part of my duty.—You will at least be pleased with it, as the least mark of your father's love and attention.

CHASTITY.

THAT chastity is not the only virtue of woman is most cer­tain; but still it is so essential to the perfection of every other virtue in her, that the loss or want of it, like the sin of idolatry among the Is­raelites, weakens the force and takes of the merit of them, imprinting such a stain upon the soul, as sullies every emanation of it.

THIS virtue of chastity has ever been esteemed so inseparably neces­sary [Page 93] to every character, particularly the female character, that every civ­ilized people in the world have guuaded it with the greatest care.

THE chaste mind, like a polished plane, may admit foul thoughts, without receiving their tincture.

CHASTITY is a purity of thought, word and action.

CHEERFULNESS.

I LOOK on cheerful­ness as on the health of virtue.

CHEERFULNESS, even to gaiety, is consistent with every species of virtue and practice of religion.—I think it inconsistent only with im­piety or vice.—The ways of heaven are pleasantness. We adore, we praise, we thank the Almighty, in hymns, in songs, in anthems—and those set to music too. Let "O! be joyful," be the christian's psalm— and leave the sad Indian to incant the devil with tears and screeches. It is this true sense of religion that has rendered my whole life so cheer­ful as it has ever so remarkably been—to the great offence of your religionists. Though why prithee, should priests be always so grave? Is it so sad a thing to be a parson?

BE ye as one of these, saith the Lord—that is, as merry little children. The Lord loveth a cheer­ful giver—and, Why not a cheer­ful [Page 95] taker also? Plato and Seneca— and surely they were wise enough to have been consecrated—though that a sense of cheerfulness and joy should ever be encouraged in child­ren, from their infancy—not only on account of their healths, but as productive of true virtue.

COMPANY. (VIDE CONVERSATION.)

BE very circumspect in the choice of your company; in the society of your equals you may en­joy pleasure; in the society of your superiors, you may find profit; but to be the best in company, is to be in the way of growing worse; the best means to improve, is, to be the least there. But above all, be the companion of those who fear the Lord and keep his precepts.

[Page 96]CONVERSATION can only subsist in good company; to explain the word:—Substract the impertinently talkative, the contemptuously silent, the illiterate and the ill bred; ban­ish pedantry, affectation and rude­ness, the remainder is good company: A set of people of liberal sentiments, solid sense and just imagination, whose wit is untinctured with in­delicacy, and their politeness clear of flattery. That person alone is fit for conversation, who is free of the extremes of pride and of meanness; never unseasonably talkative or mute, and has the faculty ever to entertain, or, at least, never to of­fend his company.

CONTENTMENT.

OUR pains should be to moderate our hopes and fears, to di­rect and regulate our passions, to bear all injuries of fortune or [Page 97] men, and to attain the art of con­tentment.

TO be in a low condition, and contented, affords the mind an ex­quisite enjoyment of what the sen­ses are robbed of. If therefore thou wouldest be happy, bring thy mind to thy condition.

WHAT can he want who is already content; who lives within the lim­its of his circumstances, and who has said to his desires, "Thus far shall ye go and no farther." This is the end of all philosophy, and poor is the philosopher who has not gained that end.

CHARITY.

CHARITY makes the best construction of things and per­sons, excuses weakness, extenuates [Page 98] miscarriages, makes the best of eve­ry thing, forgives every one, and serves all.

ARE we not citizens of the world? Are we not all fellow subjects of the universal monarch? Is not the uni­verse our home? And is not every man a brother? Poor and illiberal is that charity, which is confined to any particular nation or society.— Should we not feel for the stranger, and him that hath no helper?

HE who is charitable from mo­tives of ostentation will never relieve distress in secret.

FOR farther thoughts on, or in­ducements to his virtue. I refer my readers to Spectator, 3d vol. No. 177.

CONVERSATION.

OUR conversation should be such that youth may therein find [Page 99] improvement, women modesty, the aged respect and all men civility.

TALKATIVENESS is usually called a feminine vice, but it is possible to go into masculine company, where it will be as hard to wedge in a word as at a female gossiping.

IN your discourse be cautious what you speak and to whom you speak; how you speak and when you speak; and what you speak, speak wisely, speak truly. A fool's heart is in his tongue, but a wise man's tongue is in his heart.

MODESTY in your discourse will give a lustre to truth, and an ex­cuse to your errors.

DEATH.

DEATH is no more than turning us over from time to eterni­ty. It leads to immortality, and that is recompense enough for suf­fering it.

As the tree falls so must it lie, as death leaves us so judgment will find us. If so, how importunate should every one of us be to secure the favour of the Almighty Judge, to be interested in the Redeemer's love, and among the number of his chosen people before it is too late.

DEATH is the end of fear and be­ginning of felicity. Death is the law of nature, the tribute of the flesh, the remedy of evils, and the path either to heavenly felicity, or eter­nal misery.

FRIENDSHIP.

FRIENDSHIP is a sweet attraction of the heart towards the merit we esteem, or the perfections we admire; and produces a mutu­al inclination between two persons, to promote each other's interest, knowledge, virtue and happiness.

THERE is nothing so common as pretences to friendship; though few know what it means, and fewer yet come up to its demands. By talk­ing of it, we set ourselves off; but when we enquire into it, we see our defects; and when we engage in it, we must charge through abundance of difficulty. The veneration it has challenged in every age, (the most barbarous not excepted) is a [Page 102] standing testimony of its excellence: And the more valuable it is, the more are we concerned to be in­structed in it.

MONSIEUR DE SACY in his essay upon friendship, treats to this effect: The friendship which is to be rec­ommended, is union of affections, springing from a generous respect to virtue, and is maintained by a harmony of manners. It is a great mistake to call every trifling com­merce by this serious name; or to suppose that empty compliments and visits of ceremony, when no more is intended than to pass the time, and shew the equipage, should pass for a real and well established friendship. The frequency of the practice will not wipe off the ab­surdity.—There is as wide a differ­ence between a bully and a man of honour.

GRATITUDE.

IF gratitude is due from man to man, how much more from man to his Maker? The Supreme Being does not only confer upon us those bounties which proceed more immediately from his hand, but e­ver those benefits which are con­veyed to us by others. Every bless­ing we enjoy, by what means soev­er it may be derived upon us, is the gift of Him who is the great author of good, and Father of mercies.

GRATITUDE, when exerted to­wards one another, naturally pro­duces a very pleasing sensation in the mind of a grateful man; it ex­alts the soul into rapture, when it is employed in this great object of gratitude; on this beneficent Being who has given us every thing we already possess, and from whom we expect every thing we hope for.

HONESTY.

HE only is worthy of esteem, that knows what is just and honest, and dares to do it; that is master of his own passions, and scorns to be slave to another's. Such an one in the lowest poverty, is a far better man, and merits more re­spect, than those gay things, who owe all their greatness and reputa­tion to their rentals and revenues.

THE difference there is between honor and honesty, seems to be chiefly in the motive, the mere hon­est man does that from duty, which the man of honor does for the sake of character.

[Page 105]THE more honesty a man has, the less he affects the air of a saint— the affectation of sanctity is a blotch on the face of piety.

HONOR.

THE man of honor is an internal, the person of honor an ex­ternal; the one a real, the other a fictitious character. I am therefore never surprised to see or hear such things attempted, said and done by a person of honor, which a man of honor would blush to think of.

THE bulk of mankind are caught by shew. The pompous sound of titles, and glitter of ornaments strike their senses, attract their attention, raise their admiration, and extort from them all that reverence which is due only to eminent and distin­guished merit; while real virtue and true honor pass silently through the [Page 106] world, unheeded and unregarded, but by the happy and discerning few, who are sensible of its merit, or enjoy the blessed communication of its influence.

HONORS are in this world un­der no regulation; true quality is neglected, virtue is oppressed, and vice triumphant. The last day will rectify this disorder, and assign to every one a station suitable to the dignity of his character: Ranks will then be adjusted, and prece­dency set right.

LOVE.

WITHOUT constancy there is neither love, friendship, nor virtue in the world.

HE that loves on the account of virtue, can never be weary; because there are ever fresh charms to at­tract him, and entertain him.

[Page 107]OUR affections are the links which form society; and though, by being stretched or broken, they may give us pain, yet certainly we could have no pleasure without them.

MARRIAGE.

MARRIAGES founded on assection are the most happy. Love (says Addison) ought to have shot its roots deep, and to be well grown before we enter into that state. There is nothing which more nearly concerns the peace of man­kind—it is his choice in this re­spect on which his happiness or misery for life depends.

[Page 108]THE best dowry to advance the marriage of a young lady is, when she has in her countenance, mild­ness; in her speech, wisdom; in her behaviour, modesty; and in her life, virtue.

BETTER is a portion in a wife, than with a wife.

AN inviolable fidelity, good hu­mour, and complacency of temper in a wise, outlive all the charms of a fine face, and make the decays of it invisible.

OBLIGATIONS.

HAVE I obliged any body, or done the world any ser­vice? If so, the action has reward­ed me; this answer will encourage good nature, therefore let it always be at hand.

A man cannot be bound by one benefit to suffer all sorts of injuries, [Page 109] for there are some cases wherein we lie under no obligation for a bene­fit, because a greater injury absolves it. As for example, a man helps me out of a law suit, and afterwards commits a rape upon my daughter; where the following impiety can­cels the antecedent obligation. A man lends me a little money, then sets my house on fire; the debtor is here turning creditor, because the injury out weighs the benefit; nay, if he does but so much as repent the good office done, and grow sour and insolent upon it, and up­braid me with it. If he did it only for his own sake, or for any other reason, than for mine, I am in some degree, more or less acquitted of the obligation.

OATHS.

THE infamous, though common practice of cursing and [Page 110] swearing, upon the most trivial oc­casions, and of using the name of God irreverently, prevails shame­fully with many who are pleased to call themselves Christians; nor is this custom less ridiculous than im­pious, as it is the only crime which human nature is capable of com­mitting, that neither proposes pleas­ure nor profit for its end.

POVERTY.

IN seeking virtue, if you find poverty, be not ashamed, the fault is not yours. Your honour or dishonour is purchased by your own actions; though virtue gives a ragged livery, she gives a golden cognizance. If her service make [Page 111] you poor, blush not; your poverty may prove disadvantageous to you, but cannot dishonour you.

TO feel the extremity of want, and be always under discipline and mortification, must be very uncom­fortable: But then we are to con­sider, that the world will either mend or wear off, and that the dis­charge will come shortly, and the hardship turn to advantage; that the contest is commendable and brave, and that 'tis dangerous and dishonourable to surrender.

PLEASURE.

THERE is but one solid pleasure in life, and that is, our duty. How miserable then, how unwise, how unpardonable are they, who make that a pain.

HE that resigns the world, is in a constant possession of a serene mind▪ [Page 112] but he who follows the pleasures of it, meets with nothing but re­morse and confusion.

PRIDE.

EVERY man, however little, makes a figure in his own eyes.

HE who thinks no man above him but for his virtue, none below him but for his vice, can never be obse­quious in a wrong place.

THAT is a mean and despicable kind of pride, that measures worth by the gifts of fortune, the greatest portion of which, is too often in the hands of the least deserving.

PROUD men never have friends; neither in prosperity, because they [Page 113] know no body; nor in adversity, because then no body knows them.

RICHES.

RICHES cover a greater number of faults, than ever charity has done.

A great fortune in the hands of a fool, is a great misfortune. The more riches a fool has, the greater fool he is. All the treasures of the earth, are not to be compared to the least virtue of the soul.

SENSIBILITY.

O Sensibility! thou pa­rent of virtue—thou ornament of human nature! unhappy must that man be, who is void of thee. He must be a monster in the human form—he must forever be a stran­ger to those dispositions and affec­tions of mind which exalt our spe­cies, and which are the sources of the most refined pleasures.

SECRECY.

A PROPER secrecy is the only mys­tery of able men, mystery is the only secrecy of weak and cunning [Page 115] ones. The man who tells nothing, or who tells all, will equally have nothing told him. If a fool knows a secret, he tells it because he is a fool; if a knave knows one, he tells it wherever it will be his interest to tell it. There are some occasions in which a man must tell half his secret, in order to conceal the rest; but there is seldom one in which a man must tell all. Great skill is necessary, to know how far to go, and where to stop.

SLANDER.

TEN thousand are the vehicles in which the deadly poison of slander is prepared and commu­nicated to the world—and by some artful hands, it is done by so subtile and nice an infusion, that it is not to be tasted or discovered but by its effects. How frequently is the hon­esty [Page 116] and integrity of a man disposed of, by a smile or a shrug.—How many good, generous actions have been sunk into oblivion, by a dis­trustful look—or stampt with the imputation of proceeding from bad motives, by a mysterious and sea­sonable whisper. Look into the companies of those whose gentle na­tures should disarm them, we shall find little better account.—How large a portion of chastity is sent out of the world by distant hints— nodded away, and cruelly winked into suspicion by envy. How of­ten does the reputation of a helpless creature, bleed from report—which the party who is at the pains to propagate it—hopes in God it is not true, but in the mean time is resolved to give the report her pass, &c.

LET it be your first object to do your duty, and not to be very anx­ious about any censure, but that of conscience.

TIME.

HOW speedily will the consummation of all things com­mence! for yet a very little while, and the commissioned Archangel lifts up his hand to heaven, and swears by the Almighty name, that " Time shall be no longer." Then abused opportunities will never re­turn, and new opportunities will never more be offered. Then should negligent mortals wish ever so pas­sionately for a few hours—a few moments only—to be thrown back from the opening eternity; thous­ands of worlds would not be able to procure the grant.

A wise man counts his minutes. He lets no time slip, for time is life; which he makes long, by the good husbandry, of a right use and ap­plication of it.

[Page 118]MAKE the most of your minutes, says Aurelius, and be good for something while you can.

WE should read over our lives as well as books, take a survey of our actions, and make an inspection in­to the division of our time. King Alfred (that truly great and wise monarch) is recorded to have di­vided the day and night into three parts: Eight hours he allotted to eat and sleep in, eight for business and recreation, and eight he dedi­cated to study and prayer.

TIME is what we want most, but what we use worst; for which we must all account, when time shall be no more.

SHOULD the greatest part of peo­ple sit down, and draw a particular account of their time, what a shame­ful bill would it be? So much ex­traordinary for eating, drinking and sleeping, beyond what nature re­quires; so much in revelling and wantonness; so much for the re­covery [Page 119] of last night's intemperance; so much for gaming, plays and masquerades; so much in paying and receiving formal and imperti­nent visits, in idle and foolish prat­ing, in censuring and reviling our neighbours; so much in dressing, and talking of fashions; and so much lost and wasted in doing nothing.

IT was a memorable practice of Vespasian, through the whole course of his life; he called himself to an account every night for the actions of the past day, and so often as he found he had skipped any one day without doing some good, he enter­ed upon his diary this memorial, " I have lost a day."

THE time we live ought not to be computed by the number of years, but by the use which has been made of it: It is not the ex­tent of ground, but the yearly rent which gives the value to the estate. Wretched and thoughtless creatures! [Page 120] in the only place where covetous­ness were a virtue, we turn prodi­gals! nothing lies upon our hands with such uneasiness, nor has there been so many devices for any one thing, as to make time glide away imperceptibly and to no purpose. A shilling shall be hoarded up with care whilst that which is above the price of an estate, is flung away with disregard and contempt.