Gregory, A Father's Legacy







Printed for W. STRAHAN; T.CADELL, in the
Strand; and W.CREECH, at Edinburgh.


P R E F A C E.

THAT the ubequent Letters were written by a tender father, in a declining state of health, for the intruction of his daughters, and not intended for the Public, is a circumtance which will recommend them to every one who coniders them in the light of admonition and advice. In uch dometic intercoure, no acrifices are made to
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prejudices, to cutoms, to fahionable opinions. Paternal love, paternal care, peak their genuine entiments, undiguied and unretrained. A father's zeal for his daughter's improvement, in whatever can make a woman amiable, with a father's quick apprehenion of the dangers that too often arie, even from the attainment of that very point, ugget his admonitions, and render him attentive to a thouand little graces and little decorums, which would ecape


the nicet moralit who hould undertake the ubject on unintereted peculation. Every faculty is on the alarm, when the objects of uch tender affection are concerned.

     In the writer of thee Letters paternal tendernes and vigilance were doubled, as he was at that time ole parent, death having before deprived the young ladies of their excellent mother. His own precarious tate of health inpired him with the mot tender olicitude for their future


welfare; and though he might have concluded, that the impreion made by his intruction and uniform example could never be effaced from the memory of his children, yet his anxiety for their orphan condition uggeted to him this method of continuing to them thoe advantages.

     The Editor is encouraged to offer this Treatie to the Public, by the very favourable reception which the ret of his father's works have met with. The Comparative View of the State

of Man and other Animals, and the Eay on the Office and Duties of a Phyician, have been very generally read; and, if he is not deceived by the partiality of his friends, he has reaon to believe they have met with general approbation.

     In ome of thoe tracts the Author's object was to improve the tate and undertanding of his reader ; in others, to mend his heart ; in others, to point out to him the proper ue of philoophy, by hewing its applica-


tion to the duties of common life. In all his writings his chief view was the good of his fellow-creatures ; and as thoe among his friends, in whoe tate and judgment he mot confided, think the publication of this mall work will contribute to that general deign, and at the ame time do honour to his memory, the Editor can no longer heitate to comply with their advice in communicating it to the Public.

C O N T E N T S.

Introduction, -- -- Page 1
Religion, -- -- -- 9
Conduct and Behaviour, -- 26
Amuements, -- -- 47
Friendhip, Love, Marriage, 63

A Father's Legacy to His Daughters


YOU had the misfortune to be deprived of your mother, at a time of life when you were inenible of your los, and could receive little benefit, either from her intruction,


or her example.--Before this comes to your hands, you will likewie have lot your father.

     I have had many melancholy reflections on the forlorn and helples ituation you mut be in, if it hould pleae God to remove me from you, before you arrive at that period of life, when you will be able to think and act for yourelves. I know mankind too well. I know their falehood, their diipation, their coldnes to all the duties of friendhip and humanity. I know the little attention paid to helples infancy.--You will meet with few friends diintereted

enough to do you good offices, when you are incapable of making them any return, by contributing to their interet or their pleaure, or even to the gratification of their vanity.

     I have been upported under the gloom naturally ariing from thee reflections, by a reliance on the goodnes of that Providence which has hitherto preerved you, and given me the mot pleaing propect of the goodnes of your dipoitions ; and by the ecret hope that your mother's virtues will entail a bleing on her children.


     The anxiety I have for your happines has made me reolve to throw together my entiments relating to your future conduct in life. If I live for ome years, you will receive them with much greater advantage, uited to your different geniues and dipoitions. If I die ooner, you mut receive them in this very imperfect manner,--the lat proof of my affection.

     You will all remember your father's fondnes, when perhaps every other circumtance relating to him is forgotten. This remembrance, I hope, will induce you to give a e-

rious attention to the advices I am now going to leave with you.--I can requet this attention with the greater confidence, as my entiments on the mot intereting points that regard life and manners, were entirely correpondent to your mother's, whoe judgment and tate I truted much more than my own.

     You must expect that the advices which I hall give you will be very imperfect, as there are many nameles delicacies, in female manners, of which none but a woman can judge.--You will have one advantage by attending to what I am going to leave


with you ; you will hear, at leat for once in your lives, the genuine entiments of a man who has no interet in flattering or deceiving you.--I hall throw my reflections together without any tudied order, and hall only, to avoid confuion, range them under a few general heads.

     You will ee, in a little Treatie of mine jut publihed, in what an honourable point of view I have conidered you ex ; not as dometic drudges, or the laves of our pleaures, but as our companions and equals ; as deigned to often our

hearts and polih our manners ; and, as Thomon finely ays,

To raie the virtues, animate the blis,
And weeten all the toils of human life.

     I hall not repeat what I have there aid on this ubject, and hall only oberve, that from the view I have given of your natural character and place in ociety, there aries a certain propriety of conduct peculiar to your ex. It is this peculiar propriety of female manners of which I intend to give you my entiments, without touching on thoe general rules of conduct by which men and women are equally bound.


     While I explain to you that ytem of conduct which I think will tend mot to your honour and happines, I hall, at the ame time, endeavour to point out thoe virtues and accomplihments which render you mot repectable and mot amiable in the eyes of my own ex.

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THOUGH the duties of religion, trictly speaking, are equally binding on both exes, yet certain differences in their natural character and education, render ome vices in your ex particularly odious. The natural hardnes of our hearts, and trength of our paions, inflamed by the uncontrolled licence we are too often indulged with in our youth, are apt to render our manners more diolute, and make us les uceptible of the finer feelings of the


heart. Your uperior delicacy, your modety, and the uual everity of your education, preerve you, in a great meaure, from any temptation to thoe vices to which we are mot ubjected. The natural oftnes and enibility of your dipoitions particularly fit you for the practice of thoe duties where the heart is chiefly concerned. And this, along with the natural warmth of your imaginations, renders you peculiarly uceptible of the feelings of devotion.

     There are many circumtances in your ituation that peculiarly require the upports of religion to enable you

to act in them with pirit and propriety. Your whole life is often a life of uffering. You cannot plunge into buines, or diipate yourelves in pleaure and riot, as men too often do, when under the preure of mifortunes. You mut bear your orrows in ilence, unknown and unpitied. You mut often put on a face of erenity and chearfulnes, when your hearts are torn with anguih, or inking in depair. Then your only reource is in the conolations of religion. It is chiefly owing to thee that you bear dometic misfortunes better than we do.


     But you are ometimes in very different circumtances, that equally require the retraints of religion. The natural vivacity, and perhaps the natural vanity of your ex, is very apt to lead you into a diipated tate of life, that deceives you, under the appearance of innocent pleaure ; but which in reality wates your pirits, impairs your health, weakens all the uperior faculties of your minds, and often ullies your reputations. Religion, by checking this diipation, and rage for pleaure, enables you to draw more happines, even from thoe very ources of amuement, which, when too frequently applied

to, are often productive of atiety and digut.

     Religion is rather a matter of entiment than reaoning. The important and intereting articles of faith are ufficiently plain. Fix your attention on thee, and do not meddle with controvery. If you get into that, you plunge into a chaos, from which you will never be able to extricate yourelves. It poils the temper, and, I upect, has no good effect on the heart.

     Avoid all books, and all converation, that tend to hake your faith


on thoe great points of religion which hould erve to regulate your conduct, and on which your hopes of future and eternal happines depend.

     Never indulge yourelves in ridicule on religious ubjects ; nor give countenance to it in others, by eeming diverted with what they ay. This, to people of good breeding, will be a ufficient check.

     I wih you to go no farther than the Scriptures for your religious opinions. Embrace thoe you find clearly revealed. Never perplex your-

elves about uch as you do not undertand, but treat them with ilent and becoming reverence.--I would advie you to read only uch religious books as are addreed to the heart, uch as inpire pious and devout affections, uch as are proper to direct you in your conduct, and not uch as tend to entangle you in the endles maze of opinions and systems.

     Be punctual in the tated performance of your private devotions, morning and evening. If you have any enibility or imagination, this will etablih uch an intercoure between you and the Supreme Being, as will


be of infinite conequence to you in life. It will communicate an habitual chearfulnes to your tempers, give a firmnes and teadines to your virtue, and enable you to go through all the viciitudes of human life with propriety and dignity.

     I wih you to be regular in your attendance on public worhip, and in receiving the communion. Allow nothing to interrupt your public or private devotions, except the performance of ome active duty in life, to which they hould always give place.--In your behaviour at public worhip, oberve an exemplary attention and gravity.


     That extreme trictness which I recommend to you in thee duties, will be conidered by many of your acquaintance as a upertitious attachment to forms ; but in the advices I give you on this and other ubjects, I have an eye to the pirit and manners of the age. There is a levity and diipation in the preent manners, a coldnes and litlenes in whatever relates to religion, which cannot fail to infect you, unles you purpoely cultivate in your minds a contrary bias, and make the devotional tate habitual.


     Avoid all grimace and otentation in your religious duties. They are the uual cloaks of hypocriy ;at leat they hew a weak and vain mind.

     Do not make religion a ubject of common converation in mixed companies. When it is introduced, rather eem to decline it. At the ame time, never uffer any peron to inult you by any foolih ribaldry on your religious opinions, but hew the ame reentment you would naturally do on being offered any other peronal inult. But the uret way to

avoid this, is by a modet reerve on the ubject, and by uing no freedom with others about their religious entiments.

     Cultivate an enlarged charity for all mankind, however they may differ from you in their religious opinions. That difference may probably arie from caues in which you had no hare, and from which you can derive no merit.

     Shew your regard to religion, by a ditinguihing repect to all its miniters, of whatever peruaion, who do not by their lives dihonour their
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profeion ; but never allow them the direction of your conciences, let they taint you with the narrow pirit of their party.

     The bet effect of your religion will be a diffuive humanity to all in ditres.--Set apart a certain proportion of your income as acred to charitable purpoes. But in this, as well as in the practice of every other duty, carefully avoid otentation. Vanity is always defeating her own purpoes. Fame is one of the natural rewards of virtue. Do not purue her, and he will follow you.


     Do not confine your charity to giving money. You may have many opportunities of hewing a tender and compaionate pirit where your money is not wanted.--There is a fale and unnatural refinement in enibility, which makes ome people hun the ight of every object in ditres. Never indulge this, epecially where your friends or acquaintances are concerned. Let the days of their misfortunes, when the world forgets or avoids them, be the eaon for you to exercie your humanity and friendhip. The ight of human miery oftens the heart, and makes it better ; it checks the pride of health and
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properity, and the ditres it occaions is amply compenated by the conciounes of doing your duty, and by the ecret endearment which nature has annexed to all our ympathetic orrows.

     Women are greatly deceived, when they think they recommend themelves to our ex by their indifference about religion. Even thee men who are themelves unbelievers dilike infidelity in you. Every man who knows human nature, connects a religious tate in your ex with oftnes and enibility of heart ; at leat we always conider the want of it as a

proof of that hard and maculine pirit, which of all your faults we dilike the mot. Beides, men conider your religion as one of their principal ecurities for that female virtue in which they are mot intereted. If a gentleman pretends an attachment to any of you, and endeavours to hake your religious principles, be aured he is either a fool, or has deigns on you which he dares not openly avow.

     You will probably wonder at my having educated you in a church different from my own. The reaon was plainly this : I looked on the
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differences between our churches to be of no real importance, and that a preference of one to the other was a mere matter of tate. 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 he liked. It never was her deire that you hould be baptized by a clergyman of the church of England, or be educated in that church. On the contrary, the delicacy of her regard to the mallet circumtance that could affect me in the eye of the world, made her anxiouly init it might be otherwie. But I could not yield to her

in that kind of generoity.--When I lot her, I became till more determined to educate you in that church, as I feel a ecret pleaure in doing every thing that appears to me to expres my affection 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 hould be*.

      * The reader will remember, that uch obervations as repect equally both the exes are all along as much as poible avoided.

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ONE of the chief beauties in a female character is that modet reerve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye, and is diconcerted even at the gaze of admiration.--I do not wih you to be inenible to applaue. If you were, you mut become, if not wore, at leat les amiable women. But you may be dazzled by that admiration, which yet rejoices your hearts.

     When a girl ceaes to bluh, he has lot the mot powerful charm of

beauty. That extreme enibility which it indicates, may be a weaknes and incumbrance in our ex, as I have too often felt ; but in yours it is peculiarly engaging. Pedants, who think themelves philoophers, ak why a woman hould bluh when he is concious of no crime. It is a ufficient anwer, that Nature has made you to bluh when you are guilty of no fault, and has forced us to love you becaue you do o.--Bluhing is o far from being necearily an attendant on guilt, that it is the uual companion of innocence.


     This modety, which I think o eential in your ex, will naturally dipoe you to be rather ilent in company, epecially in a large one.--People of ene and dicernment will never mitake uch ilence for dulnes. One may take a hare in converation without uttering a yllable. The expreion in the countenance hews it, and this never ecapes an oberving eye.

     I hould be glad that you had an eay dignity in your behaviour at public places, but not that confident eae, that unabahed countenance, which eems to et the company at

defiance.--If, while a gentleman is peaking to you, one of uperior rank addrees you, do not let your eager attention and viible preference betray the flutter of your heart. Let your pride on this occaion preerve you from that meannes into which your vanity would ink you. Conider that you expoe yourelves to the ridicule of the company, and affront one gentleman, only to well the triumph of another, who perhaps thinks he does you honour in peaking to you.

     Convere with men even of the firt rank with that dignified modety,


which may prevent the approach of the mot ditant familiarity, and conequently prevent them from feeling themelves your uperiors.

     Wit is the mot dangerous talent you can poes. It mut be guarded with great dicretion and good-nature, otherwie it will create you many enemies. Wit is perfectly conitent with oftnes and delicacy ; yet they are eldom found united. Wit is o flattering to vanity, that they who poes it become intoxicated, and loe all elf-command.


     Humour is a different quality. It will make your company much olicited ; but be cautious how you indulge it.--It is often a great enemy to delicacy, and a till greater one to dignity of character. It may ometimes gain you applaue, but will never procure you repect.

     Be even cautious in diplaying your good ene. It will be thought you aume a uperiority over the ret of the company.--But if you happen to have any learning, keep it a profound ecret, epecially from the men, who generally look with a jealous and


malignant eye on a woman of great parts, and a cultivated undertanding.

     A man of real genius and candour is far uperior to this meannes. But uch a one will eldom fall in your way ; and if by accident he hould, do not be anxious to hew the full extent of your knowledge. If he has any opportunities of eeing you, he will oon dicover it himelf ; and if you have any advantages of peron or manner, and keep your own ecret, he will probably give you credit for a great deal more than you poes.--The great art of pleaing

in converation conits in making the company pleaed with themelves. You will more readily hear than talk yourelves into their good graces.

     Beware of detraction, epecially where your own ex are concerned. You are generally accued of being particularly addicted to this vice.--I think unjutly.--Men are fully as guilty of it when their interets interfere.--As your interets more frequently clah, and as your feelings are quicker than ours, your temptations to it are more frequent. For this reaon, be particularly tender of the reputation of your own ex, epe-


cially when they happen to rival you in our regards. We look on this as the tronget proof of dignity and true greatnes of mind.

     Shew a compaionate ympathy to unfortunate women, epecially to thoe who are rendered o by the villainy of men. Indulge a ecret pleaure, I may ay pride, in being the friends and refuge of the unhappy, but without the vanity of hewing it.

     Conider every pecies of indelicacy in converation, as hameful in itelf, and as highly diguting to us. All double entendre is of this ort.--

The diolutenes of men's education allows them to be diverted with a kind of wit, which yet they have delicacy enough to be hocked 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 thee. No man, but a brute or a fool, will inult a woman with converation which he ees gives her pain ; nor will he dare to do it, if he reent the injury with a becoming pirit.--There is a dignity in concious virtue which is able to awe the
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mot hameles and abandoned of men.

     You will be reproached perhaps with prudery. By prudery is uually meant an affectation of delicacy. Now I do not wih you to affect delicacy ; I wih you to poes it. At any rate, it is better to run the rik of being thought ridiculous than diguting.

     The men will complain of your reerve. They will aure you that a franker behaviour would make you more amiable. But trut me, they are not incere when they tell you o.

--I acknowledge, that on ome occaions it might render you more agreeable as companions, but it would make you les amiable as women : An important ditinction, which many of your ex are not aware of.--After all, I wih you to have great eae and opennes in your converation. I only point out ome coniderations which ought to regulate your behaviour in that repect.

     Have a acred regard to truth. Lying is a mean and depicable vice.--I have known ome women of excellent parts, who were o much addicted to it, that they could not be
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truted in the relation of any tory, epecially if it contained any thing of the marvellous, or if they themelves were the heroines of the tale. This weaknes did not proceed from a bad heart, but was merely the effect of vanity, or an unbridled imagination.--I do not mean to cenure that lively embellihment of a humorous tory, which is only intended to promote innocent mirth.

     There is a certain gentlenes of pirit and manners extremely engaging in your ex ; not that indicriminate attention, that unmeaning imper, which miles on all alike.

This aries, either from an affectation of oftnes, or from perfect inipidity.

     There is a pecies of refinement in luxury, jut beginning to prevail among the gentlemen of this country, to which our ladies are yet as great trangers as any women upon earth ; I hope, for the honour of the ex, they may ever continue o : I mean, the luxury of eating. It is a depicable elfih vice in men, but in your ex it is beyond expreion indelicate and diguting.
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     Every one who remembers a few years back, is enible of a very triking change in the attention and repect formerly paid by the gentlemen to the ladies. Their drawing-rooms are deerted ; and after dinner and upper, the gentlemen are impatient till they retire. How they came to loe this repect, which nature and politenes o well intitle them to, I hall not here particularly inquire. The revolutions of manners in any country depend on caues very various and complicated. I hall only oberve, that the behaviour of the ladies in the lat age was very re-

erved and tately. It would now be reckoned ridiculouly tiff and formal. Whatever it was, it had certainly the effect of making them more repected.

     A fine woman, like other fine things in nature, has her proper point of view, from which he may be een to mot advantage. To fix this point requires great judgment, and an intimate knowledge of the human heart. By the preent mode of female manners, the ladies eem to expect that they hall regain their acendancy over us, by the fullet diplay of their peronal charms, by


being always in our eye at public places, by convering with us with the ame unreerved freedom as we do with one another ; in hort, by reembling us as nearly as they poibly can.--But a little time and experience will hew the folly of this expectation and conduct.

     The power of a fine woman over the hearts of men, of men of the finet parts, is even beyond what he conceives. They are enible of the pleaing illuion, but they cannot, nor do they wih to diolve it. But if he is determined to dipel the charm, it certainly is in her power : he may


oon reduce the angel to a very ordinary girl.

     There is a native dignity in ingenuous modety to be expected in your ex, which is your natural protection from the familiarities of the men, and which you hould feel previous to the reflection that it is your interet to keep yourelves acred from all peronal freedoms. The many nameles charms and endearments of beauty hould be reerved to bles the arms of the happy man to whom you give your heart, but who, if he has the leat delicacy, will depie them, if he knows that they have been proti-


tuted to fifty men before him.--The entiment, that a woman may allow all innocent freedoms, provided her virtue is ecure, is both grosly indelicate and dangerous, and has proved fatal to many of your ex.

     Let me now recommend to your attention that elegance, which is not o much a quality itelf, as the high polih of every other. It is what diffues an ineffable grace over every look, every motion, every entence you utter. It gives that charm to beauty without which it generally fails to pleae. It is partly a peronal quality, in which repect it is

the gift of nature ; but I peak of it principally as a quality of the mind. In a word, it is the perfection of tate in life and manners ;--every virtue and every excellence, in their mot graceful and amiable forms.

     You may perhaps think that I want to throw every park of nature out of your compoition, and to make you entirely artificial. Far from it. I wih you to poes the mot perfect implicity of heart and manners. I think you may poes dignity without pride, affability without meannes, and imple elegance


without affectation. Milton had my idea, when he ays of Eve,

Grace was in all her teps, Heaven in her eye,
In every geture dignity and love.

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EVERY period of life has amuements which are natural and proper to it. You may indulge the variety of your tates in thee, while you keep within the bounds of that propriety which is uitable to your ex.

     Some amuements are conducive to health, as various kinds of exercie : ome are connected with qualities really ueful, as different kinds of women's work, and all the do-


metic concerns of a family : ome are elegant accomplihments, as dres, dancing, muic, and drawing. Such books as improve your undertanding, enlarge your knowledge, and cultivate your tate, may be conidered in a higher point of view than mere amuements. There are a variety of others, which are neither ueful nor ornamental, uch as play of different kinds.

     I would particularly recommend to you thoe exercies that oblige you to be much abroad in the open air, uch as walking, and riding on horeback. This will give vigour to your

contitutions, and a bloom to your complexions. If you accutom yourelves to go abroad always in chairs and carriages, you will oon become o enervated, as to be unable to go out of doors without them. They are like mot articles of luxury, ueful and agreeable when judiciouly ued ; but when made habitual, they become both inipid and pernicious.

     An attention to your health is a duty you owe to yourelves and to your friends. Bad health eldom fails to have an influence on the pirits and temper. The finet geniues, the


mot delicate minds, have very frequently a correpondent delicacy of bodily contitution, which 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 greatet bleings of life, never make a boat of it, but enjoy it in grateful ilence. We o naturally aociate the idea of female oftnes and delicacy with a correpondent delicacy of contitution, that when a woman peaks of her great trength, her extraordinary appetite, her abi-

litiy to bear exceive fatigue, we recoil at the decription in a way he is little aware of.

     The intention of your being taught needle-work, knitting, and uch like, is not on account of the intrinic 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 tolerably agreeable way, ome of the many olitary hours you mut necearily pas at home.--It is a great article in the happines of life, to
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have your pleaures as independent of others as poible. By continually gadding abroad in earch of amuement, you loe the repect of all your acquaintances, whom you oppres with thoe viits, which, by a more dicreet management, might have been courted.

     The dometic oeconomy of a family is entirely a woman's province, and furnihes a variety of ubjects for the exertion both of good ene and good tate. 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 excued from

this by any extent of fortune, tho' with a narrow one the ruin that follows the neglect of it may be more immediate.

     I am at the greatet los what to advie you in regard to books. There is no impropriety in your reading hitory, or cultivating any art or cience to which genius or accident leads you. The whole volume of Nature lies open to your eye, and furnihes an infinite variety of entertainment. If I was ure that Nature had given you uch trong principles of tate and entiment as would remain with you, and influence your future conduct,
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with the utmot pleaure would I endeavour to direct your reading in uch a way as might form that tate to the utmot perfection of truth and elegance. "But when I reflect how eay it is to warm a girl's imagination, and how difficult deeply and permanently to affect her heart ; how readily he enters into every refinement of entiment, and how eaily he can acrifice them to vanity or convenience ;" I think I may very probably do you an injury by artificially creating a tate, which, if Nature never gave it you, would only erve to embarras your future conduct.--I do not want to make you

any thing : I want to know what Nature has made you, and to perfect you on her plan. I do not wih you to have entiments that might perplex you : I wih you to have entiments that may uniformly and teadily guide you, and uch as your hearts o thoroughly approve, that you would not forego them for any conideration this world could offer.

     Dres is an important article in female life. The love of dres is natural to you, and therefore it is proper and reaonable. Good ene will regulate your expence in it, and good tate will direct you to dres in uch a
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way as to conceal any blemihes, and et off your beauties, if you have any, to the greatet advantage. But much delicacy and judgment are required in the application of this rule. A fine woman hews her charms to mot advantage, when he eems mot to conceal them. The finet boom in nature is not o fine as what imagination forms. The mot perfect elegance of dres appears always the mot eay, and the leat tudied.

     Do not confine your attention to dres to your public appearances. Accutom yourelves to an habitual neatnes, o that in the mot careles

undres, in your mot unguarded hours, you may have no reaon to be ahamed of your appearance.--You will not eaily believe how much we conider your dres as expreive of your characters. Vanity, levity, lovenlines, folly, appear through it. An elegant implicity is an equal proof of tate and delicacy.

     In dancing, the principal points you are to attend to are eae and grace. I would have you to dance with pirit ; but never allow yourelves to be o far tranported with mirth, as to forget the delicacy of your ex.--Many a girl dancing in the gaiety and


innocence of her heart, is thought to dicover a pirit he little dreams of.

     I know no entertainment that gives uch pleaure to any peron of entiment or humour, as the theatre.--But I am orry to ay, there are few Englih comedies a lady can ee, without a hock to delicacy. You will not readily upect the comments on uch occaions. Men are often bet acquainted with the mot worthles of your ex, and from them too readily form their judgment of the ret. A virtuous girl often hears very indelicate things with a counte-

nance no wie embarraed, becaue in truth he does not undertand them. Yet this is, mot ungenerouly, acribed to that command of features, and that ready preence of mind, which you are thought to poes in a degree far beyond us ; or, by till more malignant obervers, it is acribed to hardened effrontery.

     Sometimes a girl laughs with all the implicity of unupecting innocence, for no other reaon but being infected with other people's laughing : he is then believed to know more than he hould do--If he does happen to undertand an improper


thing, he uffers a very complicated ditres : he feels her modety hurt in the mot enible manner, and at the ame time is ahamed of appearing concious of the injury. The only way to avoid thee inconveniencies, is never to go to a play that is particularly offenive to delicacy.--Tragedy ubjects you to no uch ditres.--Its orrows will often and ennoble your hearts.

     I need ay little about gaming, the ladies in this country being as yet almot trangers to it.--It is a ruinous and incurable vice ; and as it leads to all the elfih and turbulent pa-

ions, is peculiarly odious in your ex. I have no objection to your playing a little at any kind of game, as a variety in your amuements, provided that what you can poibly loe is uch a trifle as can neither interet you, nor hurt you.

     In this, as well as in all important points of conduct, hew a determined reolution and teadines. This is not in the leat inconitent with that oftnes and gentlenes o amiable in your ex. On the contrary, it gives that pirit to a mild and weet dipoition, without which it is apt to degenerate


into inipidity. It makes you repectable in your own eyes, and dignifies you in ours.

[ 63 ]


THE luxury and diipation that prevails in genteel life, as it corrupts the heart in many repects, o it renders it incapable of warm, incere, and teady friendhip. A happy choice of friends will be of the utmot conequence to you, as they may ait you by their advice and good offices. But the immediate gratification which friendhip affords to a warm, open, and ingenuous heart, is of itelf a ufficient motive to court it.


In the choice of your friends, have your principal regard to goodnes of heart and fidelity. If they alo poes tate and genius, that will till make them more agreeable and ueful companions. You have particular reaon to place confidence in thoe who have hewn 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 o much.

If you have the good fortune to meet with any who deerve the name of friends, unboom yourelf to them with the mot unupicious confidence. It is one of the world's maxims, never to trut any peron with a ecret, the dicovery of which could give you any pain ; but it is the maxim of a little mind and a cold heart, unles where it is the effect of frequent diappointments and bad uage. An open temper, if retrained but by tolerable prudence, will make you, on the whole, much happier than a reerved upicious one, although you may ometimes uffer by it. Coldnes and ditrut are but the too cer-


tain conequences of age and experience ; but they are unpleaant feelings, and need not be anticipated before their time.

      But however open you may be in talking of your own affairs, never dicloe the ecrets of one friend to another. Thee are acred depoits, which do not belong to you, nor have you any right to make ue of them.

     There is another cae, in which I upect it is proper to be ecret, not o much from motives of prudence, as delicacy ; I mean in love matters.

Though a woman has no reaon to be ahamed of an attachment to a man of merit, yet nature, whoe authority is uperior to philoophy, has annexed a ene of hame to it. It is even long before a woman of delicacy dares avow to her own heart that he loves ; and when all the ubterfuges of ingenuity to conceal it from herelf fail, he feels a violence done both to her pride and to her modety. This, I hould imagine, mut always be the cae where he is not ure of a return to her attachment.

     In uch a ituation, to lay the heart open to any peron whatever, does
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not appear to me conitent with the perfection of female delicacy. But perhaps I am in the wrong.--At the ame time I mut tell you, that, in point of prudence, it concerns you to attend well to the conequences of uch a dicovery. Thee ecrets, however important in your own etimation, may appear very trifling to your friend, who poibly will not enter into your feelings, but may rather conider them as a ubject of pleaantry. For this reaon, love-ecrets are of all others the wort kept. But the conequences to you may be very erious, as no man of pirit and delicacy ever valued a heart

much hackneyed in the ways of love.

     If, therefore, you mut have a friend to pour out your heart to, be ure of her honour and ecrecy. Let her not be a married woman, epecially if he lives happily with her huband. There are certain unguarded moments, in which uch a woman, though the bet and worthiet of her ex, may let hints ecape, which at other times, or to any other peron than her huband, he would be incapable of ; nor will a huband in this cae feel himelf under the ame obligation of ecrecy and ho-
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nour, as if you had put your confidence originally in himelf, epecially on a ubject which the world is apt to treat o lightly.

     If all other circumtances are equal, there are obvious advantages in your making friends of one another. The ties of blood, and your being o much united in one common interet, form an additional bond of union to your friendhip. If your brothers hould have the good fortune to have hearts uceptible of friendship, to poes truth, honour, ene, and delicacy of entiment, they are the fittet and mot unexceptionable confidants. By pla-

cing confidence in them, you will receive every advantage which you could hope for from the friendhip of men, without any of the inconveniencies that attend uch connexions with our ex.

     Beware of making confidants of your ervants. Dignity not properly undertood very readily degenerates into pride, which enters into no friendhips, becaue it cannot bear an equal, and is o fond of flattery as to grap at it even from ervants and dependants. The mot intimate confidants, therefore, of proud people are valets-de-chambre and waiting-women. Shew the utmot humanity to
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your ervants ; make their ituation as comfortable to them as poible : but if you make them your confidants, you poil them,and debae yourelves.

     Never allow any peron, under the pretended anction of friendhip, to be o familiar as to loe a proper repect for you. Never allow them to teaze you on any ubject that is diagreeable, or where you have once taken your reolution. Many will tell you, that this reerve is inconitent with the freedom which friendhip allows. But a certain repect is as neceary in friendhip as in love.

Without it, you may be liked as a child, but you will never be beloved as an equal.

     The temper and dipoitions of the heart in your ex make you enter more readily and warmly into friendhips than men. Your natural propenity to it is o trong, that you often run into intimacies which you oon have ufficient caue to repent of ; and this makes your friendhips o very fluctuating.

     Another great obtacle to the incerity as well as teadines of your friendhips, is the great clahing of


your interets in the puruits of love, ambition, or vanity. For thee reaons, it would appear at firt view more eligible for you to contract your friendhips with the men. Among other obvious advantages of an eay intercoure between the two exes, it occaions an emulation and exertion in each to excel and be agreeable : hence their repective excellencies are mutually communicated and blended. As their interets in no degree interfere, there can be no foundation for jealouy or upicion of rivalhip. The friendhip of a man for a woman is always blended with a tendernes, which he never

feels for one of his own ex, even where love is in no degree concerned. Beides, we are concious of a natural title you have to our protection and good offices, and therefore we feel an additional obligation of honour to erve you, and to oberve an inviolable ecrecy, whenever you confide in us.

     But apply thee obervations with great caution. Thouands of women of the bet hearts and finet parts have been ruined by men who approached them under the pecious name of friendhip. But uppoing


a man to have the mot undoubted honour, yet his friendhip to a woman is o near a-kin to love, that if he be very agreeable in her peron, he will probably very oon find a lover, where he only wihed to meet a friend.--Let me here, however, warn you againt that weaknes o common among vain women, the imagination that every man who takes particular notice of you is a lover. Nothing can expoe you more to ridicule, than the taking up a man on the upicion of being your lover, who perhaps never once thought of you in that view, and

giving yourelves thoe airs o common among illy women on uch occaions.

     There is a kind of unmeaning gallantry much practied by ome men, which, if you have any dicernment, you will find really very harmles. Men of this ort will attend you to public places, and be ueful to you by a number of little obervances, which thoe of a uperior clas do not o well undertand, or have not leiure to regard, or perhaps are too proud to ubmit to. Look on the compliments of uch men as words of coure, which they repeat to every


agreeable woman of their acquaintance. There is a familiarity they are apt to aume, which a proper dignity in your behaviour will be eaily able to check.

     There is a different pecies of men whom you may like as agreeable companions, men of worth, tate, and genius, whoe converation, in ome repects, may be uperior to what you generally meet with among your own ex. It will be foolih in you to deprive yourelves of an ueful and agreeable acquaintance, merely becaue idle people ay he is your lover. Such a man may like your

company, without having any deign on your peron.

     People whoe entiments, and particularly whoe tates, correpond, naturally like to aociate together, although neither of them have the mot ditant view of any further connection. But as this imilarity of minds often gives rie to a more tender attachment than friendhip, it will be prudent to keep a watchful eye over yourelves, let your hearts become too far engaged before you are aware of it. At the ame time, I do not think that your ex, at leat in this part of the world, have much of that


enibility which dipoes to uch attachments. What is commonly called love among you is rather gratitude, and a partiality to the man who prefers you to the ret of your ex ; and uch a man you often marry, with little of either peronal eteem or affection. Indeed, without an unuual hare of natural enibility, 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 cone-

quence of our attachment to you. Now, uppoing a woman to have ene and tate, he will not find many men to whom he can poibly be uppoed to bear any coniderable hare of eteem. Among thee few, it is a very great chance if any of them ditinguihes her particularly. Love, at leat with us, is exceedingly capricious, and will not always fix where reaon ays it hould. But uppoing one of them hould become particularly attached to her, it is till extremely improbable that he hould be the man in the world her heart mot approved of.


     As, therefore, Nature has not given you that unlimited range in your choice which we enjoy, he has wiely and benevolently aigned to you a greater flexibility of tate on this ubject. Some agreeable qualities recommend a gentleman to your common good liking and friendhip. In the coure of his acquaintance, he contracts an attachment to you. When you perceive it, it excites your gratitude ; this gratitude ries into a preference, and this preference perhaps at lat advances to ome degree of attachment, epecially if it meets with croes and difficulties ; for thee, and a tate of upene, are

very great incitements to attachment, and are the food of love in both exes. If attachment was not excited in your ex in this manner, there is not one of a million of you that could ever marry with any degree of love.

     A man of tate and delicacy marries a woman becaue he loves her more than any other. A woman of equal tate and delicacy marries him becaue he eteems him, and becaue he gives her that preference. But if a man unfortunately becomes attached to a woman whoe heart is ecretly pre-engaged, his attachment, intead of obtaining a uitable return, is par-
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ticularly offenive ; and if he perits to teaze her, he makes himelf equally the object of her corn and averion.

     The effects of love among men are diverified by their different tempers. An artful man may counterfeit every one of them o as eaily to impoe on a young girl of an open, generous, and feeling heart, if he is not extremely on her guard. The finet parts in uch a girl may not always prove ufficient for her ecurity. The dark and crooked paths of cunning are unearchable, and inconceivable to an honourable and elevated mind.


     The following, I apprehend, are the mot genuine effects of an honourable paion among the men, and the mot difficult to counterfeit. A man of delicacy often betrays his paion by his too great anxiety to conceal it, epecially if he has little hopes of ucces. True love, in all its tages, eeks concealment, and never expects ucces. True love, in all its tages, eeks concealment, and never expects ucces. It renders a man not only repectful, but timid to the highet degree in his behaviour to the woman he loves. To conceal the awe he tands in of her, he may ometimes affect pleaantry, but it its aukwardly on him, and he quickly relapes into eriounes, if not into dul-
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nes. He magnifies all her real perfections in his imagination, and is either blind to her failings, or converts them into beauties. Like a peron concious of guilt, he is jealous that every eye oberves him ; and to avoid this, he huns all the little obervances of common gallantry.

     His heart and his character will be improved in every repect by his attachment. His manners will become more gentle, and his converation more agreeable ; but diffidence and embarrament will always make him appear to diadvantage in the com-

pany of his mitres. If the facination continue long, it will totally depres his pirit, and extinguih every active, vigorous, and manly principle of his mind. You will find this ubject beautifully and pathetically painted in Thomon's Spring.

     When you oberve in a gentleman's behaviour thee marks which I have decribed above, reflect eriouly what you are to do. If his attachment is agreeable to you, I leave you to do as nature, good ene, and delicacy, hall direct you. If you love him, let me advie you never to dicover too him the full extent
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of your love, no not although you marry him. That ufficiently hews your preference, which is all he is intitled to know. If he has delicacy, he will ak for no tronger proof of your affection, for your ake ; if he has ene, he will not ak it for his own. This is an unpleaant truth, but it is my duty to let you know it. Violent love cannot ubit, at leat cannot be expreed, for any time together, on both ides ; otherwie the certain conequence, however concealed, is atiety and digut. Nature in this cae has laid the reerve on you.


     If you ee evident proofs of a gentleman's attachment, and are determined to hut your heart againt him, as you ever hope to be ued with generoity by the peron who hall engage your own heart, treat him honourably and humanely. Do not let him linger in a mierable upene, but be anxious to let him know your entiments with regard to him.

     However people's hearts may deceive them, there is carcely a peron that can love for any time without at leat ome ditant hope of ucces. If you really wih to undeceive a lover, you may do it in a variety of


ways. There is a certain pecies of eay familiarity in your behaviour, which may atisfy him, if he has any dicernment left, that he has nothing to hope for. But perhaps your particular temper may not admit of this.--You may eaily hew that you want to avoid his company ; but if he is a man whoe friendhip you wih to preerve, you may not chue this method, becaue then you loe him in every capacity.--You may get a common friend to explain matters to him, or fall on many other devices, if you are eriouly anxious to put him out of upene.


     But if you are reolved againt every uch method, at leat do not hun opportunities of letting him explain himelf. If you do this, you act barbarouly and unjutly. If he brings you to an explanation, give him a polite, but reolute and deciive anwer. In whatever way you convey your entiments to him, if he is a man of pirit and delicacy, he will give you no further trouble, nor apply to your friends for their interceion. This lat is a method of courthip which every man of pirit will didain.--He will never whine nor ue for your pity. That would mortify him almot as much as your


corn. In hort, you may poibly break uch a heart, but you can never bend it.--Great pride always accompanies delicacy, however concealed under the appearance of the utmot gentlenes and modety, and is the paion of all others the mot difficult to conquer.

     There is a cae where a woman may coquette jutifiably to the utmot verge which her concience will allow. It is where a gentleman purpoely declines to make his addrees, till uch time as he thinks himelf perfectly ure of her conent. This at bottom in intended to force a wo-

man to give up the undoubted privilege of her ex, the privilege of refuing ; it is intended to force her to explain herelf, in effect, before the gentleman deigns to do it, and by this means to oblige her to violate the modety and delicacy of her ex, and to invert the clearet order of nature. All this acrifice is propoed to be made merely to gratify a mot depicable vanity in a man who would degrade the very woman whom he wihes to make his wife.

     It is of great importance to ditinguih, whether a gentleman who has the appearance of being your lover


delays to peak explicitly, from the motive I have mentioned, or from a diffidence ineparable from true attachment. In the one cae, you can carcely ue him too ill ; in the other, you ought to ue him with great kindnes : and the greatet kindnes you can hew him, if you are determined not to liten to his addrees, is to let him know it as oon as poible.

     I know the many excues with which women endeavour to jutify themelves to the world, and to their own conciences, when they act otherwie. Sometimes they plead ignorance, or at leat uncertainty, of the

gentleman's real entiments. That may ometimes be the cae. Sometimes they plead the decorums of their ex, which enjoins an equal behaviour to all men, and forbids them to conider any man as a lover till he has directly told them o.--Perhaps few women carry their ideas of female delicacy and decorum o far as I do. But I mut ay, you are not intitled to plead the obligation of thee virtues, in oppoition to the uperior ones of gratitude, jutice, and humanity. The man is intitled to all thee, who prefers you to the ret of your ex, and perhaps whoe greatet weaknes is this very preference.


--The truth of the matter is, vanity, and the love of admiration, is o prevailing a paion among you, that you may be conidered to make a very great acrifice whenever you give up a lover, till every art of coquetry fails to keep him, or till he forces you to an explanation. You can be fond of the love, when you are indifferent to, or even when you depie the lover.

     But the deepet and mot artful coquetry is employed by women of uperior tate and ene, to engage and fix the heart of a man whom the world and whom they themelves

eteem, although they are firmly determined never to marry him. But his converation amues them, and his attachment is the highet gratification to their vanity ; nay, they can ometimes be gratified with the utter ruin of his fortune, fame, and happines.--God forbid I hould ever think o of all your ex. I know many of them have principles, have generoity and dignity of oul that elevates them above the worthles vanity I have been peaking of.

     Such a woman, I am peruaded, may always convert a lover, if he cannot give him her affections, into


a warm and teady friend, provided he is a man of ene, reolution, and candour. If he explains herelf to him with a generous opennes and freedom, he mut feel the troke as a man ; but he will likewie bear it as a man : what he uffers he will uffer in ilence. Every entiment of eteem will remain ; but love, tho' it requires very little food, and is eaily urfeited with too much, yet it requires ome. He will view her in the light of a married woman ; and though paion ubides, yet a man of a candid and generous heart always retains a tendernes for a woman he has once loved, and who has ued

him well, beyond what he feels for any other of her ex.

     If he has not confided his own ecret to any body, he has an undoubted title to ak you not to divulge it. If a woman chues to trut any of her companions with her own unfortunate attachments, he may, as it is her own affair alone ; but if he has any generoity or gratitude, he will not betray a ecret which does not belong to her.

     Male coquetry is much more inexcuable than female, as well as more pernicious ; but it is rare in
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this country. Very few men will give themelves the trouble to gain or retain any woman's affections, unles they have views on them either of an honourable or dihonourable kind. Men employed in the puruits of buines, ambition, or pleaure, will not give themelves the trouble to engage a woman's affections, merely from the vanity of conquet, and of triumphing over the heart of an innocent and defenceles girl. Beides, people never value much what is entirely in their power. A man of parts, entiment, and addres, if he lays aide all regard to truth and humanity, may engage the

hearts of fifty women at the ame time, and may likewie conduct his coquetry with o much art, as to put it out of the power of any of them to pecify a ingle expreion that could be aid to be directly expreive of love.

     This ambiguity of behaviour, this art of keeping one in upene, is the great ecret of coquetry in both exes. It is the more cruel in us, becaue we can carry it what length we pleae, and continue it as long as we pleae, without your being o much as at liberty to complain or expotulate ;
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whereas we can break our chain, and force you to explain, whenever we become impatient of our ituation.

     I have inited the more particularly on this ubject of courthip, becaue it may mot readily happen to you at that early period of life when you can have little experience or knowledge of the world, when your paions are warm, and your judgments not arrived at uch full maturity as to be able to correct them.-- I wih you to poes uch high principles of honour and generoity as will render you incapable of deceiv-

ing, and at the ame time to poes that acute dicernment which may ecure you againt being deceived.

     A woman, in this country, may eaily prevent the firt impreions of love, and every motive of prudence and delicacy hould make her guard her heart againt them, till uch time as he has received the mot convincing proofs of the attachment of a man of uch merit, as will jutify a reciprocal regard. Your hearts indeed may be hut inflexibly and permanently againt all the merit a man can poes. That may be your misfortune, but cannot be your fault.
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In uch a ituation, you would be equally unjut to yourelf and your lover, if you gave him your hand when your heart revolted againt him. But mierable will be your fate, if you allow an attachment to teal on you before you are ure of a return ; or, what is infinitely wore, where there are wanting thoe qualities which alone can enure happines in a married tate.

     I know nothing that renders a woman more depicable, than her thinking it eential to happines to be married. Beides the gros indelicacy of the entiment, it is a fale one, as

thouands of women have experienced. But if it was true, the belief that it is o, and the conequent impatience to be married, is the mot effectual way to prevent it.

     You mut not think from this, that I do not wih you to marry. On the contrary, I am of opinion, that you may attain a uperior degree of happines in a married tate, to what you can poibly find in any other. I know the forlorn and unprotected ituation of an old maid, the chagrin and peevihnes which are apt to infect their tempers, and the great difficulty of making a trani-


tion with dignity and chearfulnes, from the period of youth, beauty, admiration, and repect, into the calm, ilent, unnoticed retreat of declining years.

     I ee ome unmarried women of active vigorous minds, and great vivacity of pirits, degrading themelves ; ometimes by entering into a diipated coure of life, unuitable to their years, and expoing themelves to the ridicule of girls, who might have been their grandchildren ; ometimes by oppreing their acquaintances by impertinent intruions into their private affairs ; and ome-

times by being the propagators of candal and defamation. All this is owing to an exuberant activity of pirit, which if it had found employment at home, would have rendered them repectable and ueful members of ociety.

     I ee other women, in the ame ituation, gentle, modet, bleed with ene, tate, delicacy, and every milder feminine virtue of the heart, but of weak pirits, bahful, and timid : I ee uch women inking into obcurity and inignificance, and gradually loing every elegant accomplihment ; for this evident reaon,


that they are not united to a partner who has ene, and worth, and tate, to know their value ; one who is able to draw forth their concealed qualities, and hew them to advantage ; who can give that upport to their feeble pirits which they tand o much in need of ; and who, by his affection and tendernes, might make uch a woman happy in exerting every talent, and accomplihing herelf in every elegant art that could contribute to his amuement.

     In hort, I am of opinion, that a married tate, if entered into from proper motives of eteem and affec-

tion, will be the happiet for yourelves, make you mot repectable in the eyes of the world, and the mot ueful members of ociety. But I confes I am not enough of a patriot to wih you to marry for the good of the public. I wih you to marry for no other reaon but to make yourelves happier. When I am o 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 deerve you, and be enible of your merit. But Heaven forbid you hould ever relinquih the eae and independence


of a ingle life, to become the laves of a fool or a tyrant's caprice.

     As thee have always been my entiments, I hall do you but jutice, when I leave you in uch independent circumtances as may lay you under no temptation to do from neceity what you would never do from choice.--This will likewie ave you from that cruel mortification to a woman of pirit, the upicion that a gentleman thinks he does you an honour or a favour when he aks you for his wife.


     If I live till you arrive at that age when you hall be capable to judge for yourelves, and do not trangely alter my entiments, I hall act towards you in a very different manner from what mot parents do. My opinion has always been, that when that period arrives, the parental authority ceaes.

     I hope I hall always treat you with that affection and eay confidence which may dipoe you to look on me as your friend. In that capacity alone I hall think myelf intitled to give you my opinion ; in the doing of which, I hould think myelf highly


criminal, if I did not to the utmot of my power endeavour to divet myelf of all peronal vanity, and all prejudices in favour of my particular tate. If you did not chue to follow my advice, I hould not on that account ceae to love you as my children. Though my right to your obedience was expired, yet I hould think nothing could releae me from the ties of nature and humanity.

     You may perhaps imagine, that the reerved behaviour which I recommend to you, and your appearing eldom at public places, mut cut off all opportunities of your being ac-

quainted with gentlemen. I am very far from intending this. I advie you to no reerve, but what will render you more repected and beloved by our ex. I do not think public places uited to make people acquainted together. They can only be ditinguihed there by their looks and external behaviour. But it is in private companies alone where you can expect eay and agreeable converation, which I hould never wih you to decline. If you do not allow gentlemen to become acquainted with you, you can never expect to marry with attachment on either ide.--Love is very eldom produced at


firt ight ; at leat it mut have, in that cae, a very unjutifiable foundation. True love is founded on eteem, in a correpondence of tates and entiments, and teals on the heart imperceptibly.

     There is one advice I hall leave you, to which I beg your particular attention. Before your affections come to be in the leat engaged to any man, examine your tempers, your tates, and your hearts, very everely, and ettle in your own minds, what are the requiites to your happines in a married tate ; and as it is almot impoible that

you hould get every thing you wih, come to a teady determination what you are to conider as eential, and what may be acrificed.

     If you have hearts dipoed by nature for love and friendhip, and poes thoe feelings which enable you to enter into all the refinements and delicacies of thee attachments, conider well, for Heaven's ake, and as you value your future happines, before you give them any indulgence. If you have the misfortune (for a very great misfortune it commonly is to your ex) to have uch a temper and uch entiments deeply rooted in
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you, if you have pirit and reolution to reit the olicitations of vanity, the perecution of friends (for you will have lot the only friend that would never perecute you), and can upport the propect of the many inconveniencies attending the tate of an old maid, which I formerly pointed out, then you may indulge yourelves in that kind of entimental reading and converation which is mot correpondent to your feelings.

     But if you find, on a trict elf-examination, that marriage is abolutely eential to your happines, keep the ecret inviolable in your

own booms, for the reaon I formerly mentioned ; but hun as you would do the mot fatal poion, all the pecies of reading and converation which warms the imagination, which engages and oftens the heart, and raies the tate above the level of common life. If you do otherwie, conider the terrible conflict of paions this may afterwards raie in your breats.

     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 en-
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tirely, and then it will embitter all your married days. Intead of meeting with ene, delicacy, tendernes, a lover, a friend, an equal companion, in a huband, you may be tired with inipidity and dulnes ; hocked with indelicacy, or mortified by indifference. You will find none to compaionate, or even undertand your ufferings ; for your hubands may not ue you cruelly, and may give you as much money for your clothes, peronal expence, and dometic necearies, as is uitable to their fortunes. The world would therefore look on you as unreaonable women, and that did not deerve to

be happy, if you were not o.--To avoid thee complicated evils, if you are determined at all events to marry, I would advie you to make all your reading and amuements of uch a kind, as do not affect the heart nor the imagination, except in the way of wit or humour.

     I have no view by thee advices to lead your tates ; I only want to peruade you of the neceity of knowing your own minds, which, though eemingly very eay, is what your ex eldom attain on many important occaions in life, but particularly on this of which I am peaking. There
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is not a quality I more anxiouly wih you to poes, than that collected deciive pirit which rets on itelf, which enables you to ee where your true happines lies, and to purue it with the mot determined reolution. In matters of buines, follow the advice of thoe who know them better than yourelves, and in whoe integrity you can confide ; but in matters of tate, that depend on your own feelings, conult no one friend whatever, but conult your own hearts.

     If a gentleman makes his addrees to you, or gives you reaon to believe

he will do o, before you allow your affections to be engaged, endeavour, in the mot prudent and ecret manner, to procure from your friends every neceary piece of information concerning him ; uch as his character for ene, his morals, his temper, fortune, and family ; whether it is ditinguihed for parts and worth, or for folly, knavery, and loathome hereditary dieaes. When your friends inform you of thee, they have fulfilled their duty. If they go further, 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 poible precaution to prevent their being diappointed. If fortune, and the pleaures it brings, are your aim, it is not ufficient that the ettlements of a jointure and childrens' proviions be ample, and properly ecured ; it is neceary that you hould enjoy the fortune during your own life. The principal ecurity you can have for this will depend on your marrying a good-natured generous man, who depies money, and who will let you live where you can bet enjoy that pleaure, that pomp and parade of life for which you married him.


     From what I have aid, you will eaily ee that I could never pretend to advie whom you hould marry ; but I can with great confidence advie whom you hould not marry.

     Avoid a companion that may entail any hereditary dieae on your poterity, particularly (that mot dreadful of all human calamities) madnes. It is the height of imprudence to run into uch a danger, and, in my opinion, highly criminal.

     Do not marry a fool ; he is the mot intractable of all animals ; he is led by his paions and caprices, and


is incapable of hearing the voice of reaon. It may probably too hurt your vanity to have hubands for whom you have reaon to bluh and tremble every time they open their lips in company. But the wort circumtance that attends a fool, is his contant jealouy of his wife being thought to govern him. This renders it impoible to lead him, and he is continually doing aburd and diagreeable things, for no other reaon but to hew he dares do them.

     A rake is always a upicious huband, becaue he has only known the mot worthles of your ex. He like-

wie entails the wort dieaes on his wife and children, if he has the mifortune to have any.

     If you have a ene of religion yourelves, do not think of hubands who have none. If they have tolerable undertandings, they will be glad that you have religion, for their own akes, and for the ake of their families ; but it will ink you in their eteem. If they are weak men, they will be continually teazing and hocking you about your principles.--If you have children, you will uffer the mot bitter ditres, in eeing all your endeavours to form their minds


to virtue and piety, all your endeavours to ecure their preent and eternal happines frustrated, and turned into ridicule.

     As I look on your choice of a huband to be of the greatet conequence to your happines, I hope you will make it with the utmot circumpection. Do not give way to a udden ally of paion, and dignify it with the name of love.--Genuine love is not founded in caprice ; it is founded in nature, on honourable views, on virtue, on imilarity of tates and ympathy of ouls.


     If you have thee entiments, you will never marry any one, when you are not in that ituation, in point of fortune, which is neceary to the happines of either of you. What that competency may be, can only be determined by your own tates. It would be ungenerous in you to take advantage of a lover's attachment, to plunge him into ditres ; and if he has any honour, no peronal gratification will ever tempt him to enter into any connection which will render you unhappy. If you have as much between you as to atisfy all your demands, it is ufficient.


     I shall conclude with endeavouring to remove a difficulty which mut naturally occur to any woman of reflection on the ubject of marriage. What is to become of all thee refinements of delicacy, that dignity of manners, which checked all familiarities, and upended deire in repectful and awful admiration? In anwer to this, I hall only oberve, that if motives of interet or vanity have had any hare in your reolutions to marry, none of thee 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 hubands. They have been entiments which have floated in your imaginations, but have never reached your hearts. But if thee entiments have been truly genuine, and if you have had the ingular happy fate to attach thoe who undertand them, you have no reaon to be afraid.

     Marriage, indeed, will at once dipel the enchantment raied by external beauty ; but the virtues and graces that firt warmed the heart, that reerve and delicacy which always left the lover omething further to wih, and often made him


doubtful of your enibility or attachment, may and ought ever to remain. The tumult of paion will necearily ubide ; but it will be ucceeded by an endearment, that affects the heart in a more equal, more enible, and tender manner.--But I mut check myelf, and not indulge in decriptions that may milead you, and that too enibly awake the remembrance of my happier days, which, perhaps, it were better for me to forget for ever.

     I have thus given you my opinion on ome of the mot important articles of your future life, chiefly cal-

culated for that period when you are jut entering the world. I have endeavoured to avoid ome peculiarities of opinion, which, from their contradiction to the general practice of the world, I might reaonably have upected were not o well founded. But in writing to you, I am afraid my heart has been too full, and too warmly intereted, to allow me to keep this reolution. This may have produced ome embarrament, and ome eeming contradictions. What I have written has been the amuement of ome olitary hours, and has erved to divert ome melancholy reflections.--I am concious I


undertook a tak to which I was very unequal ; but I have dicharged a part of my duty.--You will at leat be pleaed with it, as the lat mark of your father's love and attention.