University of Virginia Library

THE
BOARDING SCHOOL, &c.

On the delightful margin of the Merrimac,
in one of the most pleasant and beautiful
situations, which that fertile and healthful part
of America affords, lived Mrs. Williams, the virtuous
relict of a respectable clergyman.

She had two daughters, lovely and promising
as ever parent could boast.

Mrs. Williams's circumstances were easy. She
possessed a little patrimony, to which she retired,
after her husband's decease; but a desire of preserving
this for her children, and a wish to promote
their advantage and enlarge their society,
induced her to open a Boarding School.

As she had an eye, no less to the social
pleasure, than to the pecuniary profit of the
undertaking, she admitted only seven, at a time,
to the privilege of her tuition.

These were all young ladies, who had previously
received the first rudiments of learning,
and been initiated into the polite accomplishments,
which embellish virtue and soften the
cares of human life. They had generally lived
in the metropolis, and had acquired the graces
of a fashionable deportment; but they prossessed
different tempers and dispositions, which had
been variously, and, in some respects, erroneously
managed.

To cultivate the expanding flowers, and to
prune the juvenile eccentricities, which were
diffeminated among these tender plants; or, to
speak without a figure, to extend and purify
their ideas, to elevate and refine their affections,
to govern and direct their passions, required an
eye, watchful, and a hand, skilful as those of the
judicious Mrs. Williams.

While her judgment and prudence aided the
useful acquisitions of the mind, a sprightly fancy
and a cheerful disposition, regulated by experience
and discretion, qualified her to enter, at
once, with becoming dignity and condescending
ease, into all their concerns; to participate their
pleasures; while, with candour and mildness,
she reproved their errors, detected their follies,
and facilitated their amendment.

As the young ladies had finished their school
education, before Mrs. Williams received them
to her mansion, her instructions were more

especially designed to polish the mental part, to
call forth the dormant virtues, to unite and arrange
the charms of person and mind, to inspire
a due sense of decorum and propriety, and to
instil such principles of piety, morality, benevolence,
prudence and economy, as might be useful
through life.

Their time was, accordingly, disposed in a
manner most conducive to the attainment of
these objects. Every part of it was employed
to some valuable purpose; “for idleness,” Mrs.
Williams observed, “is the rust of the mind.”

Whatever tended to enlarge, inform, improve,
or amuse, she supposed worthy their attention.

She particularly endeavoured to domesticate
them; to turn their thoughts to the beneficial
and necessary qualifications of private life; often
inculcating, that

and labouring to convince them of the utter insignificance
and uselessness of that part of the
sex, who are

Early rising she recommended, both by precept
and example. This, she said, would not only

promote their health, but render them mistresses
of many hours, which must otherwise be lost in
enervating sloth and inaction. “And should we,”
continued she, “who have so much cause for exertion,
thus sacrifice the best part of our time?”

Another laudable practice of Mrs. Williams,
was perfect regularity in the government of her
pupils, and in the arrangement of their daily
exercises. “When,” said she, “we observe the
order of the natural world, and admire the consistency
and harmony of every part, we may
hence derive a lesson, for the regulation of our
conduct, in the sphere assigned to us.”

Pursuant to this plan of operation, the young
ladies arose at five; from which they had two
hours at their own disposal, till the bell summoned
them at seven, to the hall, where, the

ceremonies of the morning salutation over, they
breakfasted together; their repast being seasoned
with the unrestrained effusions of good humour
and sociability. On these occasions, Mrs. Williams
suspended the authority of the matron,
that, by accustoming her pupils to familiarity in
her presence, they might be free from restraint;
and, feeling perfectly easy and unawed, appear
in their genuine characters. By this mean she
had an opportunity of observing any indecorum
of behaviour, or wrong bias; which she kept in
mind, till a proper time to mention, and remonstrate
against it; a method, the salutary effects
of which were visible in the daily improvement
of her pupils.

The breakfast table removed, each took her
needle-work, except one, who read some amusing
and instructive book, for the benefit and entertainment
of the rest. The subject was selected
by Mrs. Williams, who conferred the
reading upon them in rotation.

At twelve o'clock, they were dismissed till
one, when dinner again called them together,
which was conducted in the same manner as
the morning repast.

Having resumed their occupations, the reader
of the day produced some piece of her own
composition, either in prose, or verse, according
to her inclination, as a specimen of her genius
and improvement. This being submitted to Mrs.

Williams's inspection, and the candid perusal and
criticism of her companions; and the subject
canvassed with great freedom of opinion, they
withdrew from the tasks of the day to seek that
relaxation and amusement, which each preferred.
No innocent gratification was denied them.
The sprightly dance, the sentimental song, and
indeed every species of pastime, consistent with
the decorum of the sex, was encouraged, as
tending to health, cheerfulness, and alacrity.

In these pleasing pursuits and enjoyments, the
present class of happy companions had nearly
completed the term allotted them by their parents,
and were soon to leave the peaceful shades
in which they delighted, when, being assembled
on the Monday morning of their last week, their
revered Preceptress thus accosted them:

“As the period is approaching, my dear pupils,
when I must resign your society, and quit
the important charge of instructor and friend,
which I have sustained with so much pleasure,
and, I trust, with some degree of fidelity, I shall
sum up the counsels, admonitions, and advice,
which I have frequently inculcated, and endeavour
to impress them on your minds, as my valedictory
address. For this purpose, during this
last week of your residence with me, I shall dispense
with your usual exercises, and substitute
a collection of my own sentiments, enforced by
the pathos of the occasion.

“Your docility, and cheerful diligence in attending
to my instructions; your modest, affectionate,
and respectful behaviour, together with
the laudable progress you have made in every
branch, which you have pursued, have well rewarded
my care, and engaged my approbation
and love. To me, therefore, a separation will
be painful. To you the period is important.
It is a period, which, while it relieves you from
the confinement of scholastic rules, introduces
you to new scenes of cares, of pleasures, of trials,
and of temptations, which will call for the
exercise of every virtue, and afford opportunity
for improving the endowments, both natural and
acquired, which you possess. Think not, then,
that your emancipation from schools, gives you
liberty to neglect the advantages which you have
received from them. The obligations under
which you are laid to your parents for the education
they have given you, require a diligent
improvement of every talent committed to your
trust.

“Of needle-work you are complete mistresses,
from the most delicate and highly finished, to
the most ordinary, though perhaps not less useful,
economy of mending and making the coarser
garments of family use. Many, I am aware,
suppose this laft a species of learning, which is
beneath the attention of a lady: but Clara will

tell you how valuable it has proved to her; and
how valuable it may prove to you.

“Nursed in the lap of affluence, and accustomed
to unbounded expense, Clara little thought, at
your age, that she should ever depend on her
needle for the livelihood and decent appearance
of a rising family. A discreet and prudent mother
early inculcated the lessons of industry and
economy, which she now practices; and taught
her that the knowledge could be of no disservice,
though she never had occasion for it. She married
with the brightest prospects. But a series
of unavoidable disasters, such as no human wisdom
could foresee or prevent, reduced her to
narrow circumstances; and, to complete her
misfortune, she was left a widow with four small
children. Her parents were in the grave; her
patrimony was gone! In this exigence, what
was her resource? Not fruitless lamentations,
and unavailing complaints. She immediately
summoned her resolution; and by the use of her
needle has ever since supported herself and family
with decency, and been highly respected for her
prudent exertions and exemplary industry. Directly
the reverse of this amiable character is
that of Belinda. She was educated in the same
way with Clara; the same schools gave them tuition;
and similar prosspects awaited their entrance
into life. Calamities attended the progress of
each; but different as their tempers and disposttions

was their conduct under them. The falling
fortunes of Clara were awhile suspended by
her discretion and frugality; while the ruin of
Belinda was hastened by her extravagance, diffipation,
and idleness. View them, now, in their
reduced state! Neatness, cheerfulness, and activity
preside in the dwelling of Clara; negligence,
peevishness, and sloth are legibly stamped
on that of Belinda. The ear is pained by her
complaints of poverty; the eye is disgusted by
her slatternly appearance, and oftentatious display
of the tattered remnants of finery, which bespeak
the pride and indolence of their owner; who
will neither convert them into more comfortable
garments, nor, by repairing, render them becoming.

“I hope, however, that occasions like these
may never call for your exertions. But there may
be cases, when, to know the use of your needles
will answer important purposes, even in an exalted
station, and amidst the splendor of affluence
and plenty.

“Matilda dignified a princely fortune by the
exercise of every virtue which can adorn a lady.
Among these, charity shone conspicuous. Her
maid said to her, one day, Madam, would you
have me lay aside these cast-clothes for some poor
person? Yes, replied Matilda; but sit down,
and mend them first. Don't you see they need it?
Why, Madam, rejoined the girl, is it not enough

for you to give them away? I should think the
least they can do is to mend them for themselves!
In that case, said Matilda, my bounty
would be greatly diminished. People, who need
charity have not the necessary materials for putting
such articles into repair; and should I furnish
them, perhaps they have never been taught
to use their needles. No more have I, returned
the maid. Have you not? said Matilda. Well
then, sit down, and I will direct your ingenuity
upon these clothes. By this mean you may learn
a very useful lesson, I assure you; a lesson, which
by practising for yourself, will enable you to lay
up part of your wages against the time when
sickness or old age shall take you from your
labours.

“Such examples of condescension and benevolence
to inferiors, are of more real and lasting
use than pounds prodigally bestowed.

“Do you seek higher testimonies of the honor
and utility of this employment? You may collect
many from the histories which you have
read during the last year. Among the Romans,
and several other nations of antiquity, a scarf,
wrought by the needle of a favourite fair, was received
as an honorable token of respect, and improved
as an invincible stimulus to heroic deeds.
Ladies of the first rank and station considered it
as no derogation from the dignity or delicacy
of their character, to make their own apparel,

and that of their families. The virtuous Panthea,
when her husband was going to fight in
the cause of Cyrus, her generous deliverer,
magnificently adorned his person, and decorated
his armour with her own needle-work.

“We ought never to be idle. No moment
should be unoccupied. Some employment, salutary,
either to body or mind, or both, should
be constantly pursued; and the needle is always
at hand to supply the want of other avocations.
The listless vacuity, which some young
ladies indulge, renders them extremely unhappy,
though they are insensible of the cause, and seek
to beguile the time in frivolous amusements.

“A still more endearing motive remains to be
suggested; and that is the pleasure, which your
accomplishments in this ornamental and useful
art must afford your parents; and the pain,
which your neglect of it hereafter must occasion
them.

“But your faithful and affiduous improvement
of time, since you have been with me, is a sure
pledge of your perseverance in the path of duty,
and your progress in every virtue. I trust, therefore,
that what I have said will be engraved on
your memories; and that some useful ideas will
be selected by each of you for your future advantage.

“Your minds are a good soil; and may I not
flatter myself, that the seeds of instruction which

I have sown, “will spring up, and yield fruit
abundantly?”

With one voice, they most affectionately assured
Mrs. Williams, that it should be their daily study
to profit by her lessons; and withdrew.

Monday, P. M.
READING.

Being assembled, this afternoon, Mrs.
Williams thus resumed her discourse.

“Reading is so common a part of education,
that the value of it is not duly estimated; nor
the manner of performing it, sufficiently attended
to. It is not the mere propriety of pronunciation,
accent, and cadence, which constitutes
good reading. You must enter into the spirit of
the subject, and feel interested in the matter, before
you can profit by the exercise.

“But you are so well acquainted with the
manner of reading, that the quality of books
most worthy of your perusal is the only point
on which I need to enlarge.

“Romances, the taste of former times, are now
so far out of vogue, that it is hardly necessary
to warn you against them. They exhibit the
spirit of chivalry, knight-errantry, and extravagant
folly, which prevailed in the age they depict.
But they are not interesting; nor can they
be pleasing to the correct taste and refined delicacy
of the present day.

“Novels are the favourite, and the most dangerous
kind of reading, now adopted by the generality
of young ladies. I say dangerous, because
the influence, which, with very few exceptions,
they must have upon the passions of
youth, bears an unfavourable aspect on their purity
and virtue. The style in which they are
written is commonly captivating; and the luxurlance
of the descriptions with which they
abound, extremely agreeable to the sprightly fancy,
and high expectations of the inexperienced
and unreflecting. Their romantic pictures of
love, beauty, and magnificence, fill the imagination
with ideas which lead to impure desires, a
vanity of exterior charms, and a fondness for
show and dissipation, by no means consistent
with that simplicity, modesty, and chastity,
which should be the constant inmates of the
female breast. They often pervert the judgment,
mislead the affections, and blind the understanding.

“A melancholy example of this sort is exhibited
in Juliana. Juliana was the only daughter
of a wealthy merchant, who grudged no expense
which could please or embellish his darling
child. He, however, possessed neither leisure
nor abilities “to teach the young idea how
to shoot;” but thought it sufficient that he gave
her every advantage, which could be derived
from the various schools, to which she was consigned.

She had a brilliant fancy, and a fondness
for books, which, properly directed, might
have proved of great use to her. But, having
no better principles instilled into her mind, she
indulged herself in the unlimited reading of
novels, and every light publication which a circulating
library could furnish.

“Hence her imagination took wing, and carried
her far above the scenes of common life.
The excessive refinement of her mind admitted
no ordinary amusements or avocations. Plain
truth from her own sex was an insult; and from
the other, nothing less than adoration would
fatisfy her unbounded vanity. Her beauty (of
which she really had a considerable share) and
the large fortune which she would probably inherit,
gained her many admirers; some of whom
were men of unquestionable merit. But a sober,
rational courtship could not answer her ideas of
love and gallantry The swain, who would not
die for her, she deemed unworthy of notice.

“Her father strongly recommended a gentleman,
as well calculated, in his opinion, to make
her happy, and as having his entire approbation;
but she rejected him with disdain, though she
could produce no one objection against his person,
or character.

“Her father acquiesced; expressing, however,
his regret at the mistaken notions she had imbibed;
and warning her most pathetically against

the indulgence of so romantic a disposition; yet
all in vain. He was considered as an illiterate
plodder after wealth, which she had a right to
bestow as she pleased.

“At last the lovely youth whom she had so
long contemplated, made his appearance. A military
captain entered the town on the recruiting
service. Young, handsome, easy, bold and assuming;
with all the bon ton of the coxcomb, and
all the insolence of the novice. He saw Juliana;
he sacrificed to her charms, and conquered.
She could not resist the allurements of his
gallantry. His affectation of dying love was
received with apparent pleasure; while art and
duplicity took advantage of her weakness, to precipitate
her into engagements to pity and relieve
him. Her friends saw her danger, and warmly
remonstrated against her imprudent conduct,
in receiving the addresses of a man, destitute of
property to support her, and void of every kind
of personal merit. Her father entreated and implored
the rejection of her lover, till, finding
every other method vain, he at length resolutely
forbade him the house, and his daughter's
company. This was viewed as persecution;
and, consistently with her sentiments of adventurous
love, a clandestine amour was commenced.
Her father surprised them together; and,
enraged at their disgraceful intrigue, seized the
captain, and endeavoured to turn him out of doors.

He violently resented this ungentlemanlike treatment,
as he termed it, and defended himself
with his sword. The old gentleman received a
slight wound, in the scuffle; but accomplished
his purpose. Juliana was terrified at this rencounter,
and, dreading her father's displeasure,
ran out with her paramour. His lodgings were
near, and thither, favoured by the darkness of
the night, he instantly led her. She involuntarily
followed him, without considering the impropriety
of her conduct. Here he drew his
sword, and, throwing himself at her feet, professed
his despair, and declared himself resolved
to put an immediate end to his life. She endeavoured
to reason him into calmness; but in
vain. He was sensible, that, if he now relinquished
her to her father, he should lose her
forever. His apparent agony overcame her, and
she gave him her hand.

“Her father was almost distracted at her elopement.
He traced her steps, and, following her
to the house, condescended to soothe her with
parental kindness; and promised her pardon and
continued affection, if she would renounce her
worthless lover, and return. She confessed it
was too late; that she was his wife.

“Petrified with astonishment, he looked at her,
for some time, with speechless grief; and, showing
his arm, bound up with the wound he had

received, left her with every token of anguish
and indignation!

“When the fever of passion had abated, a returning
sense of duty in Juliana, and, in the captain,
the fear of losing the property which hesought,
induced them to seek a reconciliation,
and make submissive efforts to obtain it. But
her father was too highly incensed to grant it
to him, on any terms; or to her, on any other
than the utter rejection of her unworthy companion.
These terms were not complied with.

“Sorrow and vexation preyed so deeply upon
the mind of this afflicted parent, that they
brought on a rapid decline; and he died without
again seeing his undutiful and ruined daughter.
His estate was divided between Juliana and her
four brothers. Her portion was received by her
husband, and soon spent in dissipation and excess.
Having rioted on the fortune of his wife,
while she often pined at home for want of the
common necessaries of life, he left her, to join his
regiment, promising remittances from time to
time, for her support. This promise, however, was
but ill performed; and she now feels the dreadful
effects of her folly, in the accumulated ills
of poverty and neglect. Yet she still cherishes
the most passionate fondness for what has proved
her bane. A friend called to see her, not long
since, and found her the emblem of wretchedness
and sloth. Her emaciated form, her squalid

appearance, the disorder of her house, and
her tattered raiment, bespoke the shameful negligence
of the owner. Yet she was sitting with a
novel in her hand, over which she had apparently
been weeping. She expatiated largely on the
tale it contained, while her children, who exhibited
a picture of real woe, engaged not her
attention. Her friend enquired how she could be
thus interested and distressed by mere fiction,
while every thing about her was calculated to
arouse the keenest feelings of her soul! She
coolly replied, I have fortitude sufficient to support
my own calamity, but I must sympathize
with the heroine of adversity. I have not lost my
sensibility with my fortune. My only luxury is
now imagination! How ill-timed, and how
improperly exerted, was this kind of sensibility,
in Juliana! Where, and what was her sensibility,
when she disobeyed an indulgent parent,
sacrificed her reputation, and threw herself into
the arms of a worthless man for protection—
from what? from the kindness and love of her
best friends!

“But I would not be understood to condemn
all novels indiscriminately; though great prudence
is necessary to make a useful selection.
Some of them are fraught with sentiment; convey
lessons for moral improvement; and exhibit
striking pictures of virtue rewarded; and of vice,
folly, and indiscretion punished; which may

prove encouragements to imitate, or warnings to
avoid similar practices. I shall not descend to
particulars. Those, which are sanctioned by the
general voice of delicacy and refinement, may be
allowed a reading; yet none should engross your
minds, to the neglect of more important objects;
nor be suffered to monopolize too large a portion
of your time.

“Novels are a kind of light reading, on which
the imagination feasts, while the more substantial
food which is requisite to the nourishment
of the understanding, is either untasted or undigested.
Imagination is a sportive faculty, which
should be curbed by the reins of prudence and
judgment. Its sallies are delightful in youth,
provided they be not too excursive.

“Poetry is, by some, ranked with novels; but
I think injudiciously. Good poetry is certainly
a sublime source of entertainment and instruction.
What music is to the ear, poetry is to the
heart. There must indeed, be a natural taste
for it, before it can be highly relished or enjoyed;
and this taste, wherever it exists, should be
cultivated. I know of no kind of reading more
richly formed for the mental repast of a liberal
and polished young lady, than the poetical productions
of true genius. The trifling and indelicate
cantos of ordinary witlings, and everyday
poetasters, are unworthy your attention.
But the species of poetry which I now recommend,

is peculiarly adapted to soften the passions,
excite sympathy, and meliorate the affections. It
soothes the jarring cares of life, and, pervading
the secret recesses of the soul, serves to rouse and
animate its dormant powers.

“Many essays, written by monitors of both
sexes, are extant, which you may find profitable
and pleasing, both in youth and more advanced
age. Among the foremost of these, I mention
Mrs. Chapone's letters to her niece, which
contain a valuable treasure of information and
advice.

“But among your hours devoted to reading,
history must not be without a place. Here an
extensive field of ages and generations, which
have gone before you, is opened to your view.
Here your curiosity may be gratified by a retrospection
of events, which, by conducting your
thoughts to remotest climes and periods, interests
and enlarges the mind. Here the various
revolutions, the rise, fall, and dismemberment
of ancient kingdoms and states may be traced to
the different springs of action, in which they
originated. Hence you may gain a competent
acquaintance with human nature in all its modifications,
from the most rude and barbarous, to
the most civilized and polished stages of society.
This is a species of knowledge, which will
not only be of constant use to you, in the government
of your own temper and manners, but

highly ornamental in your intercourse with the
polite and learned world.

“But let your reading of every description be
regular and methodical. Never confuse your
minds by a variety of subjects at once. When
you turn your attention to any one in particular,
finish, and lay that aside, before you take up
another. Let what you read be well understood
at the time, and well digested afterwards.
Possess yourselves, at least, of the leading traits:
otherwise your labour will be totally lost. If convenient,
always recapitulate what you have been
perusing, and annex to it your own sentiments
and remarks, to some friend. If you have no
friend at hand, who will be disposed to hear,
recollect, and run it over in your own thoughts.
This will be a great assistance to memory. But
whatever be the kind of reading which you undertake,
select such authors as good judges esteem
the best, upon the subject. Have a particular
regard to the morality and delicacy of the
books you peruse.

“When you read for mere amusement, (which
should seldom happen) be careful not to corrupt
and vitiate your taste by frothy and illiberal performances,
which will degrade the dignity and
fully the purity of your minds. That time is
very greatly mispent, which is bestowed in reading
what can yield no instruction. Not a moment's
attention should be given to books which

afford not some degree of improvement. Always
have an eye, therefore, to profit, as well
as to pleasure. Remember that youth is the
feed-time of life. You are now to cultivate that
knowledge, which future years must ripen. Free
from those domestic cares, which will engross
and occupy your minds, when placed at the
head of families, a most inestimable price is now
put into your hands to get wisdom. Now you
may learn; then you must practice.

“Now, therefore, lay up in store some provision
for every exigence, some embellishment
for every station.

“Look upon Elvira. Her acquirements in a
single state have qualified her for a shining pattern
of matronal duties. Her husband's business
abroad prevents him from attending to domestic
avocations; nor need he be anxious respecting
the management of his household affairs. Elvira
is present to every occasion. The superintendence
of her family, and the education of her
children is her delight. Capable of instructing
them in every needful branch of science, and of
furnishing them with every requisite endowment,
she is, at once, their guide, their example,
and their friend. When her husband returns
from the cares and fatigues of business,
with what becoming ease and cheerfulness does
she dissipate the anxiety which sometimes hangs
upon his brow, and exhilerate his spirits by the

enlivening charms of rational and refined conversation!
In the entertainment of their friends,
how distinguished a part she sustains! Her powers
of mind have been so happily improved, that
she is able to discuss every subject with ease and
propriety. To an enlarged understanding and a
cultivated taste, to an extensive knowledge of the
world and an acquaintance with polite literature,
she superadds those amiable virtues, which give
society its highest relish; while the elegance of
her manners and the modesty of her deportment
are a proof of the greatness of her mind, and
render her esteemed, beloved, and respected by
all who know her.

“But I slatter myself that each of you, my dear
pupils, will be an Elvira. Then will you do
justice to the superior advantages of your education;
be the delight of your friends, and the
ornaments of your country.

“Religious subjects must, by no means, be neglected
in the course of your reading. Let the
Bible be the rule of your faith and practice. If
you wish an explanation of any particular passages,
seek it from some judicious and pious
friend, or in the writings of some judicious and
learned commentator. But always attend chiefly
to those points which serve to mend the heart,
rather than to those knotty, metaphysical disquisitions,
which tend only to perplex the understanding,
and involve the inquirer in such labyrinths

of abstrusity, as are above human comprehension,
and beyond human concern. The
essential doctrines and precepts of the gospel are
level to every capacity; and upon a life and conversation
governed by these, our hopes, both of
present peace and future glory, must be founded.
“He hath shewed thee what is good; and what
doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly,
and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy
God?”

Tuesday, A. M.
WRITING AND ARITHMETIC.

The young ladies being seated, this morning,
their Preceptress addressed them as follows.

“Writing is productive both of pleasure and
improvement. It is a source of entertainment
which enlarges the mental powers more, perhaps,
than any other. The mind is obliged to exertion
for materials to supply the pen. Hence it
collects new stores of knowledge, and is enriched
by its own labours. It imperceptibly treasures
up the ideas, which the hand impresses. An
opportunity is furnished of reviewing our sentiments
before they are exposed; and we have the
privilege of correcting or expunging such as are
erroneous. For this purpose, you will find it a
good method to collect and write your thoughts
upon any subject that occurs; for by repeatedly
arranging and revising your expressions and
opinions, you may daily improve them, and learn
to think and reason properly on every occasion.
By this mean you may likewise provide yourselves
with a fund of matter for future use,
which, without this assistance, the memory

would not retain. It will be of great service to
note down in your common-place book such
particulars as you may judge worth remembering,
with your own observations upon them.
This will be a kind of amusement which will
exercise your thinking powers at the time, and,
by recurring to it afterwards, it may afford you
many useful hints.

“The frequent use of the pen is calculated
to refine and enlarge your understandings.
Have you any talent at composition? it will be
increased by cultivation.

“Neglect no opportunity, therefore, which your
leisure affords, of delighting your friends, and
accomplishing yourselves by the exercise of your
genius in this way.

“Thrice blessed are we, the happy daughters
of this land of liberty, where the female mind is
unshackled by the restraints of tyrannical custom,
which in many other regions confines the exertions
of genius to the usurped powers of lordly
man! Here virtue, merit, and abilities are
properly estimated under whatever form they appear.
Here the widely extended fields of literature
court attention; and the American fair are
invited to cull the flowers, and cultivate the expanding
laurel.

“But the species of writing, which is open to
every capacity, and ornamental to every station,
is the epistolary. This, between particular friends,

is highly agreeable and interesting. It is a method
of interchanging sentiments, and of enjoying
intercourse with those from whom you are far
removed, which is a happy substitute for personal
conversation. In a correspondence of this
sort, all affectation, formality, and bombast should
be laid aside.

“Ease, frankness, simplicity, and sincerity should
be its leading traits. Yet let not your letters be
composed of mere sounding terms, and verbose
egotism; but intermix sentiment with expression,
in such a manner as may be improving as well
as pleasing. Letters of friendship should conduce
no less to the advantage than entertainment
of the person addressed; and mere cursory letters,
of general acquaintance, must, at least, be
written with propriety and accuracy. The formation
of the characters, the spelling, the punctuation,
as well as the style and sense, must be attended
to.

“Never omit noticing the receipt of letters, unless
you mean to affront the writers. Not to answer
a letter, without being able to assign some
special reason for the neglect, is equally unpardonable
as to keep silence when conversation is
addressed to you in person.

“By habituating yourselves to writing, what
may, at first, appear a task, will become extremely
pleasant. Refuse not, then, to improve this
part of your education, especially by your frequent

and dutifully affectionate epistles to your
parents, when absent from them. Express your
gratitude for their care, and convince them it has
not been lost upon you.

“Always employ your pens upon something
useful and refined. Let no light or loose compositions
occupy your time and thoughts; but
remember that what you utter in this way is in
some measure the picture of your hearts. Virtue
forbid, that this favourite employment should
be disgraced by impurity, indelicacy, or the communication
of vicious and ignoble sentiments!

“One of the sages of antiquity being asked why
he was so long in writing his opinion, replied,
“I am writing for futurity.”

“Your characters during life, and even when
you shall sleep in the dust, may rest on the efforts
of your pens. Beware then how you employ
them. Let not the merit of your attainments in
this noble art be degraded by improper subjects
for its exercise. Suffer not the expectation of
secrecy to induce you to indulge your pens upon
subjects, which you would blush to have exposed.
In this way your characters may be injured,
and your happiness destroyed.

“Celia and Cecilia were companions at a boarding
school. When separated, they commenced
an epistolary correspondence, on which each valued
herself. Their former intimacy, which they
termed friendship, prompted them to write with

unlimited confidence; and, without the least reserve,
to reveal every dictate of levity and thoughtless
folly. They imagined themselves perfectly
secure from the censure of the critic. Their
education had not taught them, that a virtuous
mind should shrink even from ideal indelicacy.
Celia was courted by Silvander, a young man of
whom she was passionately fond; but she had
art and resolution enough to conceal her letters
from his inspection, though he often solicited a
communication of her correspondence. At length
he became impatient for a perusal of letters
which appeared so pleasing and interesting to the
parties, and suspicious that some particular cause
directed their privacy. Influenced by these motives,
Silvander bribed a market-boy, who came
from the village where Cecilia lived, and always
conveyed the letters to and from her, to give them
first into his hand. How astonished was he to
find the lightness of mind exemplified in them!
Purity of sentiment, delicacy of thought, and
refinement of taste were entirely laid aside; and
illiberal wit, frothy jests, double entendres, and
ridiculous love-tales were substituted in their
place. His name was used with so much freedom,
and every circumstance relative to his intercourse,
and proposed connexion with Celia,
was bandied with such familiarity, that he was
mortified, disgusted, and chagrined, in the extreme.
He had the policy, however, to conceal
the discovery till he had copied a considerable
number of Celia's letters, leaving out whatever
had reference to his own affairs. He then revenged
himself by disclosing his knowledge to
her, avowing his indignation at her weakness,
duplicity and folly, and taking an immediate and
final leave. Not content with this, he even circulated
her letters among his acquaintance. This
fixed the stamp of ignominy on the correspondents;
and their names and characters were rendered
as ridiculous as scandal and malicious wit
could desire.

“Celia was almost distracted at the loss of her
lover; but when she found the method he had
taken to punish her indiscretion, and that her
reputation was thus materially injured, she secluded
herself, in a great measure, from society. Her
sensibility received a wound which could never be
healed; and she lived and died in melancholy,
regret, and obscurity.

“However censurable the unjust and ungenerous
conduct of Silvander may be deemed, yet
no adequate excuse can be offered for the young
ladies, who dishonored their pens and their talents
by a most improper and unbecoming use of
both.

“Next to writing, arithmetic usually claims attention.
This is absolutely necessary in every
department, and in every stage of life. Even in
youth, the proper arrangement of your expenses

will conduce greatly to your advantage; and
when placed at the head of families, it will be
very friendly to the order and economy of your
domestic affairs. But, leaving your matronal
conduct to future admonition, many benefits result
from keeping regular accounts in a single
state. Your parents allow you a certain sum for
your own private use. Fashion and folly are always
busy in creating innumerable imaginary
wants, which must exceed your finances, if you
do not attend to an exact adjustment of your expenditures.
For this purpose, always calculate
your immediate and most necessary demands.
Let these be first supplied, and then, if your
funds be not exhausted, more superfluous ones
may occupy your thoughts. There is one claim,
however, which must not be neglected, and that
is CHARITY. You will, therefore, manage your
expenses in such a manner as to reserve some
portion of your income for the necessitous.
Should you think your allowance insufficient to
admit the children of want to a share, let your
benevolence plead for the retrenchment of some
trifling article which you may dispense with,
without much inconvenience; and the exquisite
pleasure resulting from the bestowment, will
more than counterbalance the sacrifice. In these,
and many other particulars, a knowledge of arithmetic
will enable you to conduct the affairs of
youth with ease, advantage, and usefulness.
And, perhaps, as you advance in years, and are
called to fill more important stations, you may
find it of still greater utility.

“The father of Lucinda was in easy circumstances,
while he could perform the duties and
enjoy the profits of a lucrative business. He
was the affectionate parent of a numerous family,
to whose education and improvement he attended
with unwearied diligence and pleasure; till repeated
losses in trade, and disappointments in his
worldly expectations embarrassed his affairs, depressed
his spirits, and impaired his health. In
the midst of these difficulties, his amiable and
beloved wife was removed by death. This trial
was greater than he could support. He sunk under
the affliction, and lost his reason. Lucinda
was the eldest of six children, the care of whom,
with the melancholy task of attending and ministering
to the necessities of her unhappy father, devolved
on her. She looked upon the woe-fraught
scence, and wept. Her heart was sinking under
the weight of grief; and hope, the best soother
of the unfortunate, had nearly abandoned her.
She advised with her friends, who proposed to
relieve the family by means of a subscription.
Lucinda thanked them for their proffered kindness,
and returned to her disconsolate habitation.
She deliberated on the projected measure; which
she considered must be slow, uncertain, and, at
any rate, inadequate to their future exigences.

She could not reconcile herself to the idea of her
father's depending on charity for subsistence.
Yet what could be done? One resource only
remainded;—her own exertions. By these she
slattered herself, that she might save the family
from suffering want, and discharge the obligations
she owed to her revered parent. Her education,
by which, among other branches of learning,
she had been well instructed in arithmetic,
(that being her father's favourite study) qualified
her for this undertaking. She therefore devoted
herself to the business without delay; examined
her father's accounts, collected whatever remained
that was valuable; sold the superfluous moveables,
and purchased a small stock for trade. All
who knew her motives and merit frequented her
shop, and encouraged her by their custom and
kindness. By this mean, together with her judicious
management, and engaging behaviour, she
increased her business to such a degree, as to support
the family with ease and reputation.

“Her discreet and dutiful conduct to her father,
soon restored him to his reason.

“When he found how prudently and affectionately
Lucinda had exerted herself in his behalf,
he exclaimed, “Many daughters have done
virtuously, but thou excellest them all!”

“He resumed his former business, and lived to
see his children all well provided for, and happily
settled around him.”

Tuesday, L. M.
MUSIC AND DANCING.

Her pupils having taken their places,
Mrs. Williams proceeded.

“In music and dancing you have made such
proficiency that your performances must be very
pleasing to your friends, before whom you occasionally
exhibit.

“As dancing is an accomplishment merely external,
let not the vanity of excellence in it betray
itself in an air of conscious superiority, when
you shine at the ball, and perceive yourselves to
have attracted the attention and applause of the
gay assembly. But in the midst of hilarity and
mirth, remember that modesty, diffidence, discretion,
and humility are indispensable appendages of
virtue and decency.

“Music is a talent which nature has bestowed,
and which your application has considerably improved.
It has a powerful influence over the
heart; wonderfully soothes and humanizes the
passions, and is a source of refined pleasure to a
mind capable of tasting its charms.

“Never refuse gratifying your friends by the
exertion of your abilities in performing, unless
for some very special reason. Though I would
not have you vain of your skill, and officiously
forward to display it; yet the affectation of uncommon
modesty, and ignorance, is truly ridiculous.
To plead inability to exercise powers,
which you are conscious of possessing, and for
which you wish to be esteemed and honored by
others, is false delicacy, and will never gain admission
to the breast where that which is genuine
resides. How perfectly absurd it is for a young
lady, who is politely requested to entertain a
company with her musical talents, to declare them
so small that she is really ashamed to expose herself
before such good judges; or that she has neglected
playing, or singing, for some time, and cannot
immediately revive her dormant skill; or that
she has forgotten her tunes, or songs; or that
she has a bad cold, (which none but herself perceives)
and is unable to sing; or that she is loath
to begin this amusement, and must insist upon
some other lady's setting the example; which
other lady has, in her turn, an equal number of
excuses! Thus the time of the company is engrossed,
and their pleasure suspended, till a long
train of arguments, entreaties, and compliments
are run through, and her vanity fully gratified by-the
most flattering and importunate solicitations.

“Then, clate with pride and self importance,
she condescends to grant their request; not considering
how far she has derogated from her own
merit by the futile artifice she has employed; an
artifice unworthy of an ingenuous mind, and disgraceful
to any lady who has arrived to years of
discretion.

“Let us view this evasive manner of seeking
compliments a little nearer. When a person is
known to be mistress of this delightful art, what
can be her motive for delaying the gratification
of her friends by its exercise, and refusing a
compliance with their wishes, till their patience
is exhausted? I believe that excuses, in this case,
are very seldom sincere. The youthful mind is
not insensible to praise, nor indifferent to the
means of obtaining it.

“Why then should it not be received and increased
by a ready and obliging compliance? A
desire to please is usually attended with success;
and for what reason should the power and disposition
be artifully concealed?

“Always preserve a frankness and sincerity in
your actions and designs. These will add dignity
to your condescensions, and gracefulness to
your deportment.

“Rise superior to those little arts which bespeak
the finesse of a childish folly, or a narrow mind.
Do honor to this, as well as to every other part
of your education, by acting conformably to the

precepts which have been given you, the knowledge
which you have acquired, and the opportunities
with which you may be furnished for the
purpose.

“Music and dancing, though polite and elegant
accomplishments, are, perhaps, the most fascinating,
and, of course, the most dangerous of
any that fall under that description. When indulged
to excess, beside engrossing much time
which ought to be employed in the execution
of more necessary and useful designs, they sometimes
allure their fond votaries from that purity
and rectitude which are the chief embellishments
of the female character. They lay the mind open
to many temptations, and, by nourishing a frivolous
vanity, benumb the nobler powers both
of reflection and action.

“Levitia was endowed, by the joint influence of
nature and art, with these pleasing charms. Symmetry
was perfected in her form; and her voice
was melody itself. Her parents were not in affluent
circumstances; yet their taste led them to
distinguish those graces and talents in their
daughter, which they injudiciously flattered themselves
might, one day, raise her to affluence and
same. Hence they spared no pains nor expense,
in their power to bestow, to assist her inclination
and gratify her wishes. As she advanced in
years, she affiduously cultivated and diligently imimproved
those endowments which she had been

erroneously encouraged, and oven taught, to consider
most valuable. To adorn her person, regulate
her movements, and practise her music, was
all her care. Nor had she a wish beyond the pleasures,
which she fancied they could yield. Her
mind resembled a garden, in which the useful
plants are overrun and choaked by noxious
weeds. Here and there a gaudy flower rears its
brilliant head, and proudly dares to arrest the
eye; while the delicate and useful lie buried
and concealed in the surrounding waste!

“Flattery was pleasing to her car, in whatever
form it was presented. The gay and licentious
fought her society; and vanity with its attendant
train of follies led her imagination far from the
sphere of life which Providence had assigned her.
Her parents saw their own mistake, and were
alarmed at her's: but, alas! too late were their
endeavours to prevent the mischiefs which impended.
They could not supply her unbounded
wants; and therefore to gratify her ruling passion, she deemed means of her own invention
indispensable. Among her admirers was a foreigner,
who, failing of success in his own country,
sought a subsistence in ours, from the stage.
He knew Levitia's talents. These might give
her the palm of applause, and in his way of
life, render her conspicuous. This plan he
communicated to her, infidiously offering to become
her guardian, and to put her under the

protection of such friends as should defend her
honor, and ensure her success. She was pleased
with the project. Wholly unacquainted with
the world, and unsuspicious of the subtle arts of
the deluding libertine, she scrupled not his veracity,
but listened to his insinuating declarations
of love and friendship. She was deceived by
the vanity of appearing where her fancied merit
would meet with the encouragement and reward
it deserved; and vainly imagining that her beauty
might secure her elevation and affluence, she
readily consented to the fatal experiment, eloped
from her father's house, and became a professed
actress.

“Her parents were overwhelmed with grief
and anxiety, at the discovery; but to no purpose
were all their exertions to reclaim her. She had
left them, no more to return; left them, too,
with the heart-rending reflection, that they themselves
had heedlessly contributed to her disgrace
and ruin. But bitter indeed were the fruits of
her disobedience and folly!

“She made her appearance on the stage. She
sung and danced, for which she was caressed,
flattered, and paid. A licentious mode of life
quadrating with the levity of her heart, soon left
her a prey to seduction. Her gaiety and beauty
gained her many votaries, and she became a
complete courtezan.

“In the midst of this career, her mother died
of a broken heart, evidently occasioned by her
undutiful and vicious conduct. A sense of her
ingratitude to her parents, and her shameless
manner of life struck her mind, not naturally
unfeeling, with such force, as to throw her into
a fever which undermined her constitution, deprived
her of her beauty, ruined her voice, and
left her without means of support. Her pretended
lover, finding she could no longer be useful
to him, perfidiously abandoned her to poverty
and shame. She returned, like the prodigal,
to her unhappy father, who received, but could
not assist her. Her behaviour, with its consequences
in the death of her mother, had impaired
his health, depressed his spirits, and rendered
him incapable of providing for himself.

“She is now despised and avoided by all her
former acquaintance, and must inevitably spend
the remainder of her days in wretchedness.

“Let us turn from this disgusting picture, and
behold its contrast in the amiable Florella. To
beauty of person she superadds delicacy, sensibility,
and every noble quality of the mind.
Respectful to her superiors, affable, cheerful, and
polite to her equals, and condescendingly kind
to her inferiors, Florella is universally esteemed,
beloved, and admired. Of the pleasing accomplishments
of music and dancing she is a consummate
mistress. Yet she is superior to the vain

arts of flattery, while the dignity of conscious
virtue raises her far above the affectation of false
modesty and diffidence. To please and oblige
those friends who are interested in her happiness,
and gratified by her performances, is her delight.
Nor does she think it necessary, by seigned excuses,
to delay the pleasure, which she is able to
afford; but willingly enhances that pleasure by a
ready and cheerful compliance. This she thinks
the best return she can make for their kind attention.
Though delighted with these amusements
herself, she, nevertheless, considers them
as amusements only; and assiduously cultivates
the more solid branches of her education. These,
she is wont to say, may render me useful and
happy, when the voice of music shall be brought
low, and when the sprightly limbs shall become
languid and inactive.

“How happy her parents in her filial duty and
affection! How rich the reward of their care
and expense in contributing to her improvements!
How happy Florella in their complacency and
love, and in the consciousness of deserving them!

“She was, not long since, addressed by a gentleman,
who was pleasing to her fancy; but,
determined never to indulge a sentiment of
partiality without the entire approbation of her
parents, she referred him to their decision.
For particular reasons, they disapproved of his
suit. She acquiesced without reserve, and immediately

dismissed him. Who would not rather
be a resembler of Florella, than a vain, imprudent,
and ruined Levitia?

“True, indeed, the acquirements and graces of
Florella are not attainable by every one; but the
virtues of discretion, modesty, and kindness are
within the reach of the humblest sphere, and
the most moderate abilities.”

Wednesday, A. M.

Miscellaneous Directions for
the Government of the Temper
and Manners.

“I shall now,” said Mrs. Williams,
“endeavour to sketch out for you the plan of
conduct, which I think will be most conducive
to your honor and happiness while in a single
state. Hitherto you have been under the direction
of parents, guardians, and instructors, who
have regulated your deportment, and laboured to
give you just ideas upon every subject and occasion.
That period is now over. You are
now launching into life, where you will think
and act more for yourselves.

“The path of rectitude, my dear young friends,
is narrow and intricate. Temptations lurk around
to beguile your feet astray; and dangers
which appear insurmountable will often arise to
affright you from the ways of virtue.

“But remember that a crown of honor and
happiness awaits the undeviating pursuit of truth
and duty. Let religion be your guide, and discretion
your handmaid. Thus attended, you

will escape the snares of youth, and surmount
the perplexing cares of more advanced age. At
your entrance on the stage of action, the allurements
of pleasure will spread innumerable charms
to court your acceptance. Beware of their fascinating
wiles; and whatever course you adopt, be
sure it is such as will bear the test of examination
and reflection. Let these be the criterion
of all your pursuits and enjoyments. Make it an
invariable practice to re-trace the actions and occurrences
of the day, when you retire to rest;
to account with your own hearts for the use and
improvement of the past hours; and rectify
whatever you find amiss, by greater vigilance and
caution, in future; to avoid the errors into
which you have fallen, and to discharge the duties
incumbent upon you.

“To neglect this, will be a source of great
inadvertencies and failings.

“To know yourselves, in every particular,
must be your constant endeavour. This knowledge
will lead you to propriety and consistency
of action. But this knowledge cannot be obtained
without a thorough and repeated inspection
of your various passions, affections, and propensities.
When obtained, however, it will
prevent the ill effects of flattery, by which you
will doubtless be endangered, as you advance
into the scenes of fashionable life. It will enable
you to distinguish flattery from that generous

praise which is the effusion of a feeling heart,
affected by the perception of real merit. A
young lady, unskilled in the deceitful arts of a
giddy world, is very apt to be misled by the adulation
which is offered at the shrine of vanity.
She is considered as a mark for the wit of every
coxcomb, who wishes to display his gallantry.

“Flattery is a dazzling meteor, which casts a
delusive glare before the eye; and which seduces
the imagination, perverts the judgment, and silences
the dictates of sound reason. Flattery is,
therefore, the poison and bane of the youthful
mind. It renders the receiver blind to those
defects which she ought to see and rectify, and
proud of imaginary graces which she never yet
possessed. Self-knowledge, as before observed,
will facilitate the detection of this disguised adversary,
by enabling you to investigate your real
accomplishments and merits.

“That praise which is the result of deserved
approbation from those, whose good opinion you
wish to enjoy, is worthy your attention and grateful
acceptance: but the fulsome compliments
and hyperbolical professions of unmeaning and
empty pretenders, calculated only to fill the imagination
with the inflammable air of self-conceit
and arrogant pride, should be rejected with disdain,
and cordially despised by every lady of sense
and sentiment, as an insult upon her understanding,
and an indignity to her sensibility.

“Let it, therefore, be known to those who
court your favour by an oftentatious parade of
admiration and obsequiousness, that their dissimulation
and duplicity are discovered, and that
you are superior to such futility.

“In order to discriminate between flattery and
merited praise, critically examine your own heart
and life. By this mean you will ascertain what
is really your due, and what is merely the effect
of this insidious art. But let no ideas of your
own endowments, however just, elate you with
an opinion of your superior powers of pleasing.

“Be not ostentatious of your charms, either
of person or mind. Let modesty, diffidence, and
propriety regulate you, in regard to each. Exalted
advantages will render you an object of
envy to the weak minded of your own sex, and
of satire to the ill-natured part of the other.
Never obtrude even your real graces and accomplishments
upon the world. The penetrating
and judicious will see and applaud them,
while retiring from the gaze of a misjudging
and misrepresenting throng.

“Those who are solicitous for beauty should
remember that the expression of the countenance,

in which its very essence consists, depends on the
disposition of the mind.

“Beauty, my dear girls, is indeed a desirable
quality. Neither the pen of the moralist, nor
the spleen of the satyrist, nor the envy of such
as want it, could ever bring it into contempt or
neglect. Yet mere external beauty is transient
as the meteor, and frail as the bubble, which
floats on the surface of the watery element.

“Behold the disconsolate and despised Flirtilla!
and from her fate learn not to trust in the
effects or duration of this adventitious quality.

“Early in life, Flirtilla was taught that her
charms were irresistible; that she might aspire
to an absolute ascendency over the hearts and
passions of her votaries. A superficial, but fashionable
education added the allurements of art
to those of person, and rendered her a finished
coquette.

“Her beauty and the gaiety of her manners
gained her numerous admirers, who swarmed
around, like the insect tribe, eager to sip the

fragrance of the equally fair and fading rose.
The incense of flattery, in every form, was her
tribute.

“Elated by this, she gave free scope to her
ruling passions, the love of pleasure and dissipation.
Her best days were spent in the chase of
vanity; and she culled the flowers of life, without
considering, that substantial fruit would be
required at a more advanced period, as a substitute
for the fading blossoms of youth. Her
mind was barren of improvement, and consequently
destitute of resources.

“She vainly imagined the triumphs of beauty
to be permanent, till its declared enemy, the
small-pox, convinced her of the egregious mistake.
By this she found her empire suddenly
overturned. The merciless disorder had reduced
her to a level with the generality of her sex, in
appearance, and, in enjoyment, far below them.
Her glass faithfully represented this insupportable
reduction. Regret and chagrin heightened
the apparent calamity. She was remembered
only as the contrast of what she once had been.
Her lovers were disgusted with the change, and
sought more pleasing objects of attention; while
men of sentiment could not find a similarity of
disposition, in her, to induce a connexion.

“Her female acquaintance, who had envied
her as a rival, or feared her as a superior, now
insulted her with their pity, or mortified her

by remarks on the surprising alteration in her
appearance.

“Finding no alleviation from society, she retired
from the world to nurse, in solitude, the
vexation and disappointment she experienced.

“View her now, peevish, discontented, and
gloomy! Her ideas of pleasure were centered in
that person, which is now neglected; in those endowments
which have now forsaken her forever!

“Thought she studiously shuns; for she has
nothing pleasing to occupy her reflections, but
what is irretrievably lost!

“Miserable Flirtilla! thou trustedst in vanity,
and vanity is thy recompense! How happy
mightest thou have been, even in this change,
if thy heart had been rectified, thy understanding
improved, and thy mind liberally stored with
useful sentiments, knowledge, and information!

“Cultivate, then, my young friends, those
dispositions and attainments, which will yield
permanent and real satisfaction, when sickness,
adversity, or age shall have robbed your eyes of
their lustre, and diminished the bloom and spright-liness
of your forms.

“You are doubtless sensible that your happiness,
in life, does not depend so much on your
external, as your internal graces.

“The constitutional temper of your minds
was given you by nature; but reason is added
for its regulation.

“Our passions were certainly implanted for
wife and benevolent purposes; and, if properly
directed, may be of great utility. This direction
nature will teach, and education improve. To
their precepts we must implicitly listen, if we
would become respectable or contented.

“Examine yourselves, therefore, with impartial
scrutiny. Find out your particular faults in
this respect, and exert your unwearied industry
to amend them.

“Possibly you may be naturally hasty, passionate,
or vindictive. If so, how wretched, at times,
must the indulgence of this temper render you!
When reason, awhile suspended, resumes its
empire, and calm reflection succeeds the riot of
passion, how severe must be your self-condemnation,
and how keen your sensations of regret!
Perhaps an unkindness of expression to some particular
friend, disrespectful treatment of an honored
superior, ill-timed resentment to a beloved
equal, or imperious and unbecoming severity to
a deserving inferior, may give you the most painful
emotions, and degrade you in your own, as
well as in the estimation of every observer! To
prevent this evil, accustom yourselves to check
the first risings of anger, and suspend every expression
of displeasure, till you can deliberate
on the provocation, and the propriety of noticing

it. It may have been undesigned, and, therefore,
not justly provoking. You may have misunderstood
the word, or action of offence, and inquiry
may remove the grounds of your suspicion:
or the person offending may be one with whom
prudence and honor require you not to enter the
lists. But if neither of these considerations occur,
reflect a moment, that your own reputation
and consequent happiness are at stake; and that
to lose the command of yourselves and your passions
is inconsistent with the delicacy of ladies,
the moderation of christians, and the dignity of
rational beings.

“Let every sally alarm, and excite you to rally
and new-discipline your forces; and to be
more strictly on your guard against the assaults
of your foe.

“The character of Camilla is a pattern worthy
of your imitation. While very young, Camilla
was unfortunately deprived of the instruction
and regulating hand of a discreet and
judicious mother. Her father was too much
immersed in business to attend to the cultivation
of his daughter's mind.

“He gave her the means of a genteel education,
praifed her excellencies, and chid her
faults, without being at the pains of teaching
her how to amend them. The irritability of her
temper he rather indulged, confidering her as a
girl of spirit, who would make her way in the

world, in spite of obstacles. She was naturally
generous, tender-hearted, and humane; but her
temper was as uncontrollable as the whirlpool,
and as impetuous as the wind. Happily for her,
she had an uncommon strength of mind, a ready
apprehension, a quick perception, and a depth
of understanding, seldom equalled. She saw her
errors, was conscious of her failings, and a severe
sufferer for her faults. But such was the
extreme quickness of her feelings, and so passionate
her resentment of any thing which appeared
injurious or affrontive, that she could not always
repress them. She married a gentleman of a similar
temper, and of equal prudence. In the union
of such violent spirits, great harmony could not
be presaged. Their passions were lively, their
affections ardent.

“Inadvertencies gave offence; frequent altercations
arose; both were tenacious of their
rights, and averse to condescension. Camilla
saw the impending danger; she became sensible
that the happiness of her life depended on
amendment and caution; she resolved to avoid

giving or taking offence, with the greatest diligence;
to suppress every emotion of anger;
and when she thought herself injured, to retire,
or be silent, till passion had subsided, and she
could regain her calmness.

“This was a hard task, at first; but perseverance
rendered it effectual to a thorough reformation
in each.

“Her example and pathetic admonitions induced
her husband to adopt her prudent plan.
They found their mutual endeavours productive
of real satisfaction, and happiness the reward of
their exertions to secure it.

“To be vindictive is equally, perhaps more
fatal to our own, and the peace of others, than
to be passionate. Violent passions of all kinds
are generally transient; but revenge is the offspring
of malice, the parent of discord, and the
bane of social love. It is an evidence of a weak
and sickly mind. True greatness will rise superior
to this ignoble spirit, so peculiarly ungraceful
in a lady, and inconsistent with that delicacy
and sostness, which ought ever to characterize
the sex.

“But an envious temper is, of all others, the
most degrading and miserable. Envy is a malignant
poison, which rankles in the heart, and
destroys the inward peace; even while there is
an outward appearance of serenity. That mind,
which cannot rejoice in the happiness of others,

is capable of very little in itself. To look with
a grudging and evil eye on the enjoyments of our
neighbour, must be a source of perpetual chagrin
and mortification.

“Envy indulged, is a punishment to its possessor.
Eradicate, then, the first, and every emotion of
so corroding and destructive a nature; and endeavour
to excel only by that virtuous emulation,
which is productive of improvement and respectability.

“A kind, compassionate, benevolent, humane
disposition is an invaluable treasure. It will render
you blessings to society, and objects of universal
esteem.

“This amiable temper, however, may sometimes
degenerate into weakness.

“Prudence should be exercised, even in the
indulgence of the most engaging qualities. In
the progress of life, occasions may call for that
resolution and fortitude, which admit not of apparent
softness; but such occasions very seldom
occur.

“How alluring are the charms of sympathy and
charity! Happy are they who always feel the

one, and have power and inclination to exemplify
the other!

Wednesday, P. M.
DRESS.

“Dress” continued Mrs. Williams to her
re-assembled and attentive pupils, “is an important
article of female economy. By some it is doubtless
considered as too essential. This is always
the case, when it becomes the ruling passion, and
every other excellence is made subordinate to it.
A suitable attention to the etiquette of appearance
is necessary to render us respectable in the
eyes of the world; and discovers an accommodating
disposition, which is, at once, engaging and
useful in the commerce of society. Females are
taxed with being peculiarly attached to, and captivated
by the glare of splendor and show. But
I believe superficial minds are not confined to
sex. Whatever form they actuate, to beautify
and adorn it will be the principal object.

“A certain species of gaiety and airiness is becoming
in youth. Young ladies, therefore, act
perfectly in character, when, under proper restraint,
they indulge their taste in the decoration
of their persons. But they should be efpecially
careful that their taste be correct; consistent
with the modest delicacy which is the glory
and ornament of woman.

“It is laudable to follow fashions, so far as
they are governed by these rules; but whenever
they deviate, quit them with express disapprobation
and disgust. Any assumptions of the masculine
habit are unbecoming. Dress and manners
should be correspondent; and the engaging
softness and artless simplicity, which grace my
pupils, must be quite inconsistent with the air and
attire of the other sex.

“A gaudy and fantastical mode of decoration
is by no means a recommendation. It bespeaks
a lightness of mind and a vanity of disposition,
against which a discreet and modest girl should
guard with the utmost vigilanoe. Extravagance
is a great error, even where fortune will
allow the means of supporting it. Many are the
claims which the children of affliction and want
have upon the superfluous plenty of the rich.
How much better expended would some part of
their redundance be, in relieving the necessities of
such, than in decorating their own persons, with
every ornament which art can contrive to create
expense!

“Neatness and propriety should be the main
objects; for loveliness needs no foreign aid to
give in a passport. Neatness is too often connected
with the idea of a prudish singularity; but no
gaudiness of apparel, no richness of attire, no
modishness of appearance can be an equivalent
for it. Propriety is that garb which becomes our

situation and circumstances in life. There certainly
ought to be a difference between different
ages and conditions, in this respect. Many articles,
ornamental to Miss in her teens, would appear
absurd, fantastical, and ridiculous in maturer
years. Neither should the matronal robes, and
the close cap hide the natural ringlets, and easy
shapes of the blooming girl.

“It is a very false taste which induces people
in dependent and narrow circumstances, to imitate
the expensive mode of dress which might be
very decent for those who move in a higher
sphere.

“To endeavour to conceal indigence by the affectation
of extravagance, is committing a great
offence, both against ourselves, and the community
to which we belong. The means of support
should always be attended to. A conformity to
these will render you more respected for prudence,
than a deviation for the sake of show without
substance, can make you admired.

“Louisa and Clarinda are striking examples.
They were both the daughters of reputable parents,
whose situations in the world were easy and
comfortable, though not affluent. They were
able to give their children a good education, but
no other portion. Gay, volatile, and ambitious,
Louisa was the votary of fashion. A superior
in dress excited the keenest sensations of envy
in her bosom; and a rival in appearance gave

her unspeakable mortification. Dissatisfied with
her natural charms, cosmetics and paints added
to her expenses, and betrayed her folly. She
had many professed admirers, who found her a
willing dupe to flattery, and who raised her
vanity by praising her excellent taste.

“Leander, a gentleman of liberal education,
superior merit, and handsome property, cast his
eye around for a companion to share and enjoy
these advantages with him. Louisa caught his
attention. The elegance of her person, and
splendor of her appearance, charmed his
imagination, and inspired the idea of a fortune
sufficient to support her expensive style of living.
He paid his addresses, and was received with
the most flattering encouragement. But how
great was his disappointment, when he discovered
the smallness of her resources, and the imprudence
of her management! This, said he to
himself, will never do for me. Were my income
far superior to what it is, it would not be adequate
to such unbounded extravagance. Besides,
where so little economy is practised, while under
parental government, what must be the consequence
of that unlimited indulgence, which the
confidence due to a wife demands? Were I to
abridge her expenses, and endeavour to rectify her
fantastical taste, it would doubtless foment dissension,
discord, and animosity, which must terminate

in wretchedness. He resolved, however,
to try her real disposition, by gently hinting his
disapprobation of her gaiety. This she resented;
and a rupture, which ended in a final separation,
ensued. She found, too late, the value of the
man, whom she had slighted; and ever after regretted
that solly which had irretrievably alienated
his affections.

“The modesty and neatness of Clarinda's garb
next caught Leander's eye. Conversing with her
on the subject of dress, the justness of her sentiments
gave him the highest ideas of the rectitude
and innocence of her mind. A costly article
was offered for her purchase; but she refuesed it.
It would not become me, said she, nor any other
person who has not an affluent fortune. If I had
a sufficiency to buy it, I would procure something
more simple and necessary for myself; and
the overplus might render an object of distress
contented and happy.

“Yet was Clarinda always elegantly neat;
always genteelly fashionable. Frugality and economy,
free from profusion and extravagance, enabled
her to indulge her own taste entirely; and
while she enjoyed that, she repined not at the
fancied superiority of others. Leander found
her all he wished, in appearance; all he hoped
for, in reality. As their tastes were correspondent,
and their highest aim, when united, to please

each other, they were not dependent on the
breath of fashion for their happiness. A compliance
with its forms did not elate their pride,
nor a departure from them, fill their hearts with
peevishness and discontent.”

Thursday, A. M.
POLLTENESS.

“Still more important than your habit,
is your air and deportment. It is not sufficient
that these are pleasing to the eye of the superficial
observer. Your behaviour and conversation
must be uniformly governed by the laws of
politeness, discretion, and decorum. Else you
will be disgusting to people of resinement; and
the judicious and discerning will discover the
weakness of your minds, notwithstanding the
showy ornaments, intended to conceal it from
public view.

“Inattention in company is a breach of good
manners. Indeed, it is a downright insult; being
neither more nor less, than declaring that you
have not the least respect for any who are
present. Either you do not value their good
opinion, or you have something more important
than their conversation to occupy your minds.

“You should always be attentive to those with
whom you are conversant, let their rank and
standing be what they may. Your superiors
will esteem you for your respectful treatment of
them; your equals will love you for your kindness

and familiarity; your inferiors will respect
you for your condescension and meekness.

“Attention in company will be advantageous
to yourselves. Like the industrious bee, which
sips honey from every plant, you may derive
some benefit or instruction from all kinds of
society. Some useful remark or information;
some sentiment which may allure you to the
practice of virtue, or deter you from a vicious
perpetration, may repay your labour, and be
serviceable through life.

“But should there be no other motive than
that of pleasing your associates, and rendering them
happy, by making yourselves agreeable, it may
be confidered as a sufficient inducement to the
practice of this branch of good-breeding. Many
girls, in the thoughtless levity of their hearts,
divert themselves at the expense of others; and,
with the utmost glee, point out any thing peculiar
in the appearance, words, or actions of some
one in the company, whom they select for a subject
of merriment and ridicule. This, by shrewd
looks, ironical gestures, or tittering whispers, is
kept up, to the great mortification of the unhappy
victim, and to the reproach and dishonor of the
offenders. Such conduct is a breach, not only
of the rules of common civility, but of humanity;
besides being directly repugnant to the precept
of doing to others as we would that they should
do to us.

“Be particularly careful, then, not to mortify,
or give pain to an inferior.

“Let the question, “who maketh thee to
differ?” suppress every emotion of ridicule, contempt,
or neglect; and induce you to raise and
encourage depressed merit by your notice and
approbation.

“As far as propriety, delicacy, and virtue will
allow, conform to the taste, and participate in
the amusements and conversation of the company
into which you have fallen. If they be disagreeble
to you, avoid a supercilious avowal of your
dislike. This, instead of reforming, would probably
give them a disgust to you, and perhaps
subject you to affronts. Yet where a disapprobating
word or hint may be seasonable, neglect
not the opportunity of contributing to their benefit
and amendment.

“Are you conscious of superior advantages,
either mental or external, make no ostentatious
display of them. Vanity too often leads young
ladies to obtrude their acquirements on the eyes
of observers, inconsiderately apprehending they
may otherwise be unnoticed. Such forwardness
always subjects them to censure, ridicule, and
envy; the expressions of which destroy that
self-approbation which retiring merit invariably
enjoys. However, exert that dignity of virtue
which will render you independent of caprice,
calumny, and unprovoked satire.

“Make no ungenerous, or ill-natured remarks
on the company, or on the individuals of which
it is composed.

“If you dislike them, avoid them in future.
If you witness errors, faults, or improprieties,
conceal, or at least extenuate them, as much as
possible.

“Make just allowances for those who may
differ from you in opinion; and be cautious
never to misrepresent, or circulate what appears
amiss to you, and must, if exposed, be injurious
to others. Charity hides a multitude of faults.
Certainly then, charity will never aggravate nor
create them.

“To give currency to a report, which tends
to the disadvantage and dishonor of another, is
defaming; and defamation is a species of cruelty,
which can never be expiated.

“Of this the unhappy, though imprudent Eudocia,
is an exemplification.

“Eudocia was young, gay, and charming. A
levity of disposition, which the innocence of her
heart attempted not to restrain, sometimes gave
the tongue of slander pretence to aim its envenomed
shafts at her character, and to misrepresent
her sprightliness.

“Independent in fortune; still more so in
mind, calumny gave her no pain, while she was
conscious of the rectitude of her intentions.

“Leontine was a gentleman of property;
agreeable in his person and manners; of strict
honor, and extremely tenacious of it; but of a
severe and unforgiving temper. He paid his
addresses to Eudocia; was accepted, approved,
and beloved. Yet, though he had gained her
affections, he had not sufficient influence to
regulate her conduct, and repress her gaiety.
Her fondness for show and gallantry, in some instances,
induced her to countenance the attentions,
and receive the flattery, of men, whose
characters were exceptionable, in Leontine's estimation.
He remonstrated against her imprudence,
and gave her his ideas of female delicacy.
She laughed at his gravity, and rallied him on
his implicit subjection to the opinions of others.

“Towards the close of a fine day, Eudocia
rambled along a retired road, to enjoy the air.
She was alone; but the hope of meeting her
beloved Leontine, whom she expected that evening,
imperceptibly led her beyond her intended
excursion. The rattling of a carriage caused her
to stop; and, thinking it to be Leontine's, she approached
it before she perceived her mistake. A
gentleman of an elegant appearance alighted,
and accosting her politely, expressed his surprise
at finding her so far from home without an attendant.
She found it was Florio, with whom
she had a slight acquaintance, having once met
with him in company. She frankly owned her

motive for walking thus far; and refused his invitation
to return in his carriage. He renewed
his request; and his importunity, seconded by
her satigue, at last prevailed. At this moment
the detracting Lavina passed by. She saw Eudocia,
and with a sneering smile, wished her a
good night. Eudocia was unconscious of fault,
and therefore fearless of censure. But the artful
Florio, desirous of protracting the pleasure
of her company, took a circuitous route, which
considerably increased the distance to her father's
house. However, he conveyed her safely home,
though not so soon as she wished. She found
that Leontine had been there, and had gone
to visit a friend; but would soon return. Leontine
was just seated at his friend's, when Lavina
entered.

“She told the circle, that Florio had just
passed her, and that he had company she little
expected to see with him. They inquired if it
was his former mistress? No, said she, he has
discarded her some time ago, and if we may
judge by appearances, has chosen a new one.
Upon being asked who, she presumed to name
Eudocia. Every countenance expressed surprise
and regret. In Leontine's, rage and resentment
were visibly depicted. He rose, and stepping
hastily to Lavina, told her he was a party concerned,
and demanded an explanation of what
she had infinuated. She perceived that she had

given offence, and endeavoured to excuse herself;
but he resolutely told her that no evasions
would avail; that he insisted on the real truth of
her scandalous report. Finding him thus determined,
she related the simple fact of seeing Eudocia
in a carriage with Florio, who was a known
libertine, and accustomed to the society of loose
women. Leontine asked her how she came to
associate the ideas she had mentioned with Eudocia's
name? She replied that the lightness of her
behaviour had sometimes rendered her censurable;
and she thought this instance, in particular, authorized
suspicion. Leontine could not deny that
she was culpable in appearance; yet made answer,
that though scandal might feast on the
failings of virtue, he believed Eudocia's innocence
much purer, and her heart much better
than her detracters'; and, taking his hat, he wished
the company a good evening, and left them.

“His passions were on fire. He could not
comprehend the mysterious conduct of Eudocia.
Her absence from home, at a time when he expected
her to receive him, and her being seen
at a distance, in company with a professed debauchee,
were a labyrinth which he could not explore.
Though he doubted not Eudocia's honor,
yet her folly and imprudence, in subjecting her
character to suspicion and reproach, he thought
unpardonable. His resentment determined him
to break the proposed connexion immediately;

and, left his love should get the better of his resolution, he went directly to the house.

“As he could not command his temper, he
appeared extremely agitated, and angrily told
Eudocia that she had caused him great uneasiness;
and that he came to claim the satisfaction
of knowing, why she had avoided his society,
and made an assignation with a man who had
involved her in infamy? Eudocia was astonished,
and justly offended at this address. With all
the dignity of conscious innocence, she replied,
that as yet he had no right to challenge an account
of her conduct; but for her own sake,
she would condescend to give it. This she did,
by a faithful and undisguissed relation of facts.
She then asked him, if he was satisfied. He
answered, No. For, said he, though you have
cleared yourself of guilt, in my apprehension,
you will find it very difficult to free your character
from the blemish it has received in the
opinion of the world. Saying this, he told her,
that, however highly he esteemed her, so opposite
were their dispositions, that they must often
be at variance; and so nice was his sense of
honor, that his wife, like Cæfar's, must not only
be virtuous, but unsuspected. She rejoined, that
his sentiments were apparent; and if what he
then expressed were his opinion of her, it was
best they should part.

“Some further conversation passed; when,
promising to call, the next day, and satisfy her parents,
and wishing Eudocia all possible happiness
in life, he took his leave.

“The impropriety of her conduct, and her
losing the affections of a man she too ardently
loved, together with the cruel treatment she had
just received from him, overwhelmed her with
grief, and produced the most violent emotions
of regret. She walked her room in all the anguish
of disappointed hope. Her parents used
every argument to soothe and console her; but
in vain.

“She yielded to their persuasions so far as to
retire to bed; but rest she found not; and the
morning presented her in a burning sever. Leontine
called in the course of the day; but the
friends of Eudocia refused to see him. An account
of her disorder had roused him to a sense
of his rashness, and he begged to be admitted to
her chamber; but this she utterly denied.

“Her fever left her; but the disease of her
mind was beyond the power of medicine. A
settled melancholy still remains; and she lives
the victim of calumniation!

“To detract from the merit of others, beside
the want of politeness which it betrays, and beside
the injuries which it always occasions, is
extremely impolitic. It is to confess your inferiority,
and to acknowledge a wish, not to rise to

greater respectability; but to bring down those
about you to your own level! Ill-natured remarks
are the genuine offspring of an envious
and grovelling mind.

“Call yourselves to a severe account, therefore,
whenever you have been guilty of this degrading
offence; and always check the first impulses towards
it.

“Accustom yourselves to the exercise of sinoerity,
benevolence, and good-humour, those endearing
virtues, which will render you beloved
and respected by all.

“To bestow your attention, in company, upon
trifling singularities in the dress, person, or manners
of others, is spending your time to little
purpose. From such a practice you can derive
neither pleasure nor profit; but must unavoidably
subject yourselves to the imputation of incivility
and malice.”

Thursday, L. M.
AMUSEMENTS.

“Amusement is impatiently desired,
and eagerly sought by young ladies in general.
Forgetful that the noblest entertainment arises
from a placid and well cultivated mind, too many
fly from themselves, from thought and reflection
to fashionable dissipation, or what they call
pleasure, as a mean of beguiling the hours
which solitude and retirement render insupportably
tedious.

“An extravagant fondness for company and
public resorts is incompatible with those domestic
duties, the faithful discharge of which ought
to be the prevailing object of the sex. In the
indulgence of this disposition, the mind is enervated,
and the manners corrupted, till all relish
for those enjoyments, which, being simple and
natural, are best calculated to promote health,
innocence, and social delight, is totally lost.

“It is by no means amiss for youth to seek
relaxation from severer cares and labours, in a
participation of diversions, suited to their age,
sex, and station in life. But there is great danger

of their lively imaginations' hurrying them
into excess, and detaching their affections from
the ennobling acquisitions of moral improvement,
and refined delicacy. Guard, then, against those
amusements which have the least tendency to
sully the purity of your minds.

“Loose and immoral books; company, whose
manners are licentious, however gay and fashionable;
conversation, which is even tinctured
with profaneness or obscenity; plays, in which
the representation is immodest, and offensive to
the ear of chastity; indeed, pastimes of every
description, from which no advantage can be derived,
should not be countenanced; much less,
applauded. Why should those things afford apparent
satisfaction in a crowd, which would call
forth the blush of indignation in more private
circles? This question is worthy the serious attention
of those ladies, who, at the theatre, can
hardly restrain their approbation of expressions
and actions, which, at their houses, would be intolerably
rude and indecent, in their most familiar
friends!

“Cards are so much the taste of the present
day, that to caution my pupils against the too
frequent use of them, may be thought old-fashioned
in the extreme. I believe it, however, to
be a fascinating game, which occupies the time,
without yielding any kind of pleasure or profit.
As the satirist humourously observes,

“One thing at least is certain; it entirely
excludes all rational conversation. That delightful
interchange of sentiment, which the social
meeting of friends is calculated to afford, and
from which many advantages might be derived,
is utterly excluded.

“Reading, writing, drawing, needle-work,
dancing, music, walking, riding, and conversation,
are amusements well adapted to yield pleasure
and utility. From either of these, within proper
bounds, there is no danger of injury to the person,
or mind; though to render even our diversions
agreeable, they must be enjoyed with moderation,
and variously and prudently conducted.
Such as are peculiarly exhilarating to the spirits,
however innocent in themselves, should be more
cautiously and sparingly indulged.

“When once the mind becomes too much relaxed
by disspating pastimes, it is proportionably
vitiated, and negligent of those nice attentions
to the rules of reserve and decorum, which ought
never to be suspended. Intoxicating is the full
draught of pleasure to the youthful mind; and
fatal are the effects of unrestrained passions.

“Flavia was the daughter of a gentleman,
whose political principles obliged him to leave
his country, at the commencement of the American
revolution. At that time she was at nurse
in a neighbouring village; between which and
the metropolis, all communication being cut off,
he was reduced to the necessity of leaving her
to the mercy of those to whom she was entrusted.
Having received her from pecuniary motives
only, they no sooner found themselves deprived
of the profits of their labour and care,
than they fought relies by an application to the
town for her support. A wealthy farmer in
the vicinity, who had often seen and been pleased
with the dawning charms of Flavia, pitied
her condition; and having no children of his
own, resolved to shelter her from the impending
storm, till she could be better provided for.
At his house, she was brought up in a homely,
though comfortable manner. The good man
and his wife were excessively fond of her, and
gave her every instruction and advantage in their
power. Plain truths were liberally inculcated,
and every exertion made to give her a habit of
industry and good nature. Flavia requited their
kindness by an obliging and cheerful, a docile
and submissive deportment. As she advanced in
years, she increased in beauty. Her amiable
disposition rendered her beloved, and her personal
accomplishments made her admired by all the

village swains. The approbating smile of Flavia
was the reward of their toils, and the favour
of her hand in the rustic dance was emulously
sought.

“In this state, Flavia was happy. Health and
innocence were now her portion; nor had ambition
as yet taught her to sigh for pleasures beyond
the reach of her attainment.

“But the arrival of her father, who had been
permitted to return, and re-possess the estate
which he had abandoned, put a period to the
simplicity and peace of Flavia's mind. He
sought, and found her; and though sensible of
his obligations to her foster-parents for snatching
her from want and distress, still he could
not prevail on himself to make so great a sacrifice
to gratitude as they wished, by permitting
his daughter to spend her days in obscurity.
The lively fancy of Flavia was allured by the
splendid promises and descriptions of her father;
and she readily consented to leave the friends of
her childhood and youth, and explore the walks
of sashionable life.

“When she arrived in town, what new scenes
opened upon the dazzled eyes of the admiring,
and admired Flavia!

“Wealth, with its attendant train of splendid
forms and ceremonies, courted her attention, and
every species of dissipating amusement, fanctioned
by the name of pleasure, beguiled the hours

and charmed the imagination of the noviciate.
Each enchanting scene she painted to herself in
the brightest colours; and her inexperienced
heart promised her happiness without allay.
Flattery gave her a thousand charms which she
was hitherto inconscious of possessing, and the
obsequiousness of the gaudy train around raised
her vanity to the highest pitch of arrogance and
pride. Behold Flavia, now, launched into the
whirlpool of fashionable folly! Balls, plays,
cards, and parties engross every portion of her
time.

“Her father saw, too late, the imprudence of
his unbounded indulgence; and his egregious
mistake, in so immediately reversing her mode
of life, without first furnishing her mind with
sufficient knowledge and strength to repel temptation.
He endeavoured to regulate and restrain
her conduct; but in vain. She complained of
this, as an abridgment of her liberty, and took
advantage of his doating fondness to practise
every excess. Involved in expenses (of which
losses at play composed a considerable part) beyond
her power to defray, in this embarrassing
dilemma, she was reduced to the necessity of accepting
the treacherous offer of Marius to advance
money for the support of her extravagance.
Obligated by his apparent kindness, she could
not refuse the continuance of his acquaintance,
till his delusive arts had obtained the reward he

proposed to himself, in the sacrifice of her honor.
At length she awoke to a trembling sense of her
guilt, and found it fatal to her peace, reputation,
and happiness.

“Wretched Flavia! no art could conceal thy
shame! The grief of her mind, her retirement
from company, and the alteration in her appearance,
betrayed her to her father's observation.
Highly incensed at the ingratitude and baseness
of her conduct, he refused to forgive her; but
sent her from the ensnaring pleasures of the town,
to languish out the remainder of life in solitude
and obscurity.”

Friday, A. M.
FILIAL AND FRATERNAL AFFECTION.

“The filial and fraternal are the first duties
of a single state. The obligations you are
under to your parents cannot be discharged, but
by a uniform and cheerful obedience; an unreserved
and ready compliance with their wishes,
added to the most diligent attention to their ease
and happiness. The virtuous and affectionate behaviour
of children is the best compensation, in
their power, for that unwearied care and solicitude
which parents, only, know. Upon daughters,
whose situation and employments lead them
more frequently into scenes of domestic tenderness;
who are often called to smooth the pillow
of sick and aged parents, and to administer with
a skilful and delicate hand the cordial, restorative
to decaying nature, an endearing sensibility,
and a dutiful acquiesence in the dispositions, and
even peculiarities of those from whom they have
derived existence, are indispensably incumbent.

“Such a conduct will yield a satisfaction of
mind more than equivalent to any little sacrifices

of inclination or humour which may be required
at your hands.

“Pope, among all his admired poetry, has not
six lines more beautifully expressive than the
following:

“Next in rank and importance to filial piety, is
fraternal love. This is a natural affection which
you cannot too assiduously cultivate. How delightful
to see children of the same family dwell
together in unity; promoting each other's welfare,
and emulous only to excel in acts of kindness
and good will. Between brothers and sisters
the connexion is equally intimate and endearing.
There is such a union of interests, and
such an undivided participation of enjoyments,
that every sensible and feeling mind must value
the blessings of family friendship and peace.

“Strive, therefore, my dear pupils, to promote
them, as objects which deserve your particular attention;
as attainments which will not fail richly
to reward your labour.

“Prudelia, beside other amiable endowments
of person and mind, possessed the most lively
sensibility, and ardent affections.

“The recommendations of her parents, united
to her own wishes, had induced her to give her
hand to Clodius, a gentleman of distinguished
merit. He was a foreigner; and his business required
his return to his native country.

“Prudelia bid a reluctant adieu to her friends,
and embarked with him. She lived in affluence,
and was admired and caressed by all that knew
her, while a lovely family was rising around her.
Yet these pleasing circumstances and prospects
could not extinguish or alienate that affection,
which still glowed in her breast for the natural
guardians and companions of her childhood and
youth.

“With the deepest affliction she heard the
news of her father's death, and the embarraffed
situation in which he had left his affairs. She
was impatient to console her widowed mother,
and to minister to her necessities. For these
purposes, she prevailed on her husband to consent
that she should visit her, though it was impossible
for him to attend her. With all the transport
of dutiful zeal, she flew to the arms of her
bereaved parent. But how great was her astonishment
and grief, when told that her only sister
had been deluded by an affluent villain, and by
his insidious arts, seduced from her duty, her
honor, and her home! The emotions of pity,
indignation, regret, and affection, overwhelmed
her, at first; but recollecting herself, and exerting

all her fortitude, she nobly resolved, if possible,
to snatch the guilty, yet beloved Myra, from
ruin, rather than revenge her injured family by
abandoning her to the infamy she deferved. To
this intent she wrote her a pathetic letter, lamenting
her elopement, but entreating her, notwithstanding,
to return and receive her fraternal embrace.
But Myra, conscious of her crime, and
unworthiness of her sister's condescension and
kindness, and above all, dreading the superiority
of her virtue, refused the generous invitation.
Prudelia was not thus to be vanquished in her
benevolent undertaking. She even followed her
to her lodgings, and insisted on an interview.
Here she painted, in the most lively colours, the
heinousness of her offence, and the ignominy and
wretchedness that awaited her. Her affection
allured, her reasoning convinced her backsliding
sister. Upon the promise of forgiveness from her
mother, Myra consented to leave her infamous
paramour, and retrace the paths of rectitude and
virtue.

“Her seducer was absent on a journey. She,
therefore, wrote him a farewell letter, couched
in terms of sincere penitence for her transgression,
and determined resolution of amendment in
future, and left the house. Thus restored and
reconciled to her friends, Myra appeared in quite
another character.

“Prudelia tarried with her mother till she had
adjusted her affairs, and seen her comfortably settled
and provided for. Then taking her reclaimed
sister with her, she returned to her anxiously
expecting family. The uprightness and modesty
of Myra's conduct, ever after, rendered her universally
esteemed, though the painful consciousness
of her defection was never extinguished in
her own bosom.

“A constant sense of her past misconduct depressed
her spirits, and cast a gloom over her
mind; yet she was virtuous, though pensive,
during the remainder of her life.

“With this, and other salutary effects in view,
how necessary, how important are filial and fraternal
affection!”

Friday, P. M.
FRIENDSHIP.

“Friendship is a term, much insisted
on by young people; but, like many others, more
frequently used than understood. A friend, with
girls in general, is an intimate acquaintance,
whose taste and pleasures are similar to their own;
who will encourage, or at least connive at their
foibles and faults, and communicate with them
every secret; in particular those of love and gallantry,
in which those of the other sex are concerned.
By such friends, their errors and stratagems
are flattered and concealed, while the prudent
advice of real friendship is neglected, till
they find, too late, how fictitious a character, and
how vain a dependence they have chosen.

“Augusta and Serena were educated at the
same school, resided in the same neighbourhood,
and were equally volatile in their tempers, and
dissipated in their manners. Hence every plan of
amusement was concerted and enjoyed together.
At the play, the ball, the card-table,
and every other party of pleasure, they were
companions.

“Their parents saw that this intimacy strengthened
the follies of each; and strove to disengage
their affections, that they might turn their attention
to more rational entertainments, and more
judicious advisers. But they gloried in their
friendship, and thought it a substitute for every
other virtue. They were the dupes of adulation,
and the votaries of coquetry.

“The attentions of a libertine, instead of putting
them on their guard against encroachments,
induced them to triumph in their fancied conquests,
and to boast of resolution sufficient to
shield them from delusion.

“Love, however, which, with such dispositions,
is the pretty play-thing of imagination, assailed
the tender heart of Serena. A gay youth,
with more wit than sense, more show than substance,
more art than honesty, took advantage of
her weakness to ingratiate himself into her favour,
and persuade her they could not live without
each other. Augusta was the confident of Serena.
She fanned the flame, and encouraged her
resolution of promoting her own felicity, though
at the expense of every other duty. Her parents
suspected her amour, remonstrated against the
man, and forbad her forming any connexion
with him, on pain of their displeasure. She apparently
acquiesced; but flew to Augusta for
counsel and relief. Augusta soothed her anxiety,
and promised to assist her in the accomplishment

of all her wishes. She accordingly contrived
means for a clandestine intercourse, both personal
and epistolary.

“Aristus was a foreigner, and avowed his purpose
of returning to his native country, urging
her to accompany him. Serena had a fortune,
independent of her parents, left her by a deceased
relation. This, with her hand, she consented to
give to her lover, and to quit a country, in which
she acknowledged but one friend. Augusta praised
her fortitude, and favoured her design. She
accordingly eloped and embarked. Her parents
were almost distracted by her imprudent and
undutiful conduct; and their resentment fell on
Augusta, who had acted contrary to all the dictates
of integrity and friendship, in contributing
to her ruin; for ruin it proved. Her ungrateful
paramour, having rioted on the property
which she bestowed, abandoned her to want and
despair. She wrote to her parents, but received
no answer. She represented her case to Augusta,
and implored relief from her friendship; but
Augusta alleged that she had already incurred
the displeasure of her family on her account, and
chose not again to subject herself to censure by
the same means.

“Serena at length returned to her native shore,
and applied in person to Augusta, who coolly
told her that she wished no intercourse with a
vagabond, and then retired. Her parents refused

to receive her into their house; but, from motives
of compassion and charity, granted her a
small annuity, barely sufficient to keep her and
her infant from want.

“Too late she discovered her mistaken notions
of friendship; and learned by sad experience, that
virtue must be its foundation, or sincerity and
constancy can never be its reward.

“Sincerity and constancy are essential ingredients
in virtuous friendship. It invariably seeks
the permanent good of its object; and in so
doing, will advise, caution and reprove, with all
the frankness of undissembled affection. In the
interchange of genuine friendship, flattery is utterly
excluded. Yet, even in the most intimate
connexions of this kind, a proper degree of respect,
attention, and politeness, must be observed.
You are not so far to presume on the partiality
of friendship, as to hazard giving offence, and
wounding the feelings of persons, merely because
you think their regard for you will plead your
excuse, and procure your pardon. Equally cautious
should you be, of taking umbrage at circumstances
which are undesignedly offensive.

“Hear the excellent advice of the wise son of
Sirach, upon this subject:

“Admonish thy friend; it may be he hath
not done it; and if he have done it, that he do
it no more. Admonish thy friend; it may be
he hath not said it; and if he have, that he

speak it not again. Admonish thy friend; for
many times it is a slander; and believe not every
tale. There is one that slippeth in his speech,
but not from his heart; and who is he that offendeth
not with his tongue?”

“Be not hasty in forming friendships; but
deliberately examine the principles, disposition,
temper, and manners, of the person you wish to
sustain this important character. Be well assured
that they are agreeable to your own, and such as
merit your entire esteem and confidence, before
you denominate her your friend. You may have
many general acquaintances, with whom you are
pleased and entertained; but in the chain of
friendship there is a still closer link.

“But, if you would have friends, you must
show yourselves friendly; that is, you must be
careful to act the part you wish from another.
If your friend have faults, mildly and tenderly
represent them to her; but conceal them as much
as possible from the observation of the world.
Endeavour to convince her of her errors, to

rectify her mistakes, and to confirm and increase
every virtuous sentiment.

“Should she so far deviate, as to endanger her
reputation and happiness; and should your admonitions
fail to reclaim her, become not, like
Augusta, an abettor of her crimes. It is not the
part of friendship to hide transactions which will
end in the ruin of your friend. Rather acquaint
those who ought to have the rule over her of her
intended misteps, and you will have discharged
your duty; you will merit, and very probably
may afterwards receive, her thanks.

“Narciffa and Florinda were united in the
bonds of true and generous friendship. Narciffa
was called to spend a few months with a relation
in the metropolis, where she became acquainted
with, and attached to a man who was much her
inferior; but whose specious manners and appearance
deceived her youthful heart, though
her reason and judgment informed her, that her
parents would disapprove the connexion. When
she returned home, the consciousness of her fault,
the frankness which she owed to her friend, and
her partiality to her lover, wrought powerfully
upon her mind, and rendered her melancholy.
Florinda soon explored the cause, and warmly remonstrated
against her imprudence in holding a
moment's intercourse with a man, who, she knew,
would be displeasing to her parents. She searched
out his character, and found it far inadequate to

Narcissa's merit. This she represented to her in
its true colours, and conjured her not to sacrifice
her reputation, her duty, and her happiness, by
encouraging his addresses: but to no purpose
were her expostulations. Narcissa avowed the
design of permitting him to solicit the consent of
her parents, and the determination of marrying
him without it, if they refused.

“Florinda was alarmed at this resolution; and,
with painful anxiety, saw the danger of her
friend. She told her plainly, that the regard she
had for her demanded a counteraction of her
design; and that if she found no other way of
preventing its execution, she should discharge her
duty by informing her parents of her proceedings.
This Narcissa resented, and immediately
withdrew her confidence and familiarity; but
the faithful Florinda neglected not the watchful
solicitude of friendship; and when she perceived
that Narcissa's family were resolutely opposed to
her projected match, and that Narcissa was preparing
to put her rash purpose into execution, she
made known the plan which she had concerted,
and by that mean prevented her destruction.
Narcissa thought herself greatly injured, and declared
that she would never forgive so flagrant a
breach of fidelity. Florinda endeavoured to convince
her of her good intentions, and the real
kindness of her motives; but she refused to hear
the voice of wisdom, till a separation from her

lover, and a full proof of his unworthiness,
opened her eyes to a sight of her own folly and
indiscretion, and to a lively sense of Florinda's
friendship, in saving her from ruin without her
consent. Her heart overflowed with gratitude to
her generous preserver. She acknowledged herself
indebted to Florinda's benevolence, for deliverance
from the baneful impetuosity of her
own passions. She sought and obtained forgiveness;
and ever after lived in the strictest amity
with her faithful benefactress.”

Saturday, A. M.
LOVE.

“The highest state of friendship which
this life admits, is in the conjugal relation. On
this refined affection, love, which is but a more
interesting and tender kind of friendship, ought
to be founded. The same virtues, the same dispositions
and qualities which are necessary in a
friend, are still more requisite in a companion for
life. And when these enlivening principles are
united, they form the basis of durable happiness.
But let not the mask of friendship, or of love, deceive
you. You are now entering upon a new
stage of action, where you will probably admire,
and be admired. You may attract the notice of
many, who will select you, as objects of adulation,
to discover their taste and gallantry; and
perhaps of some whose affections you have really
and seriously engaged. The first class your penetration
will enable you to detect; and your good
sense and virtue will lead you to treat them with
the neglect they deserve. It is disreputable for a
young lady to receive and encourage the officious
attentions of those mere pleasure-hunters, who

rove from fair to fair, with no other design than
the exercise of their art, address, and intrigue.
Nothing can render their company pleasing, but
a vanity of being caressed, and a false pride in
being thought an object of general admiration,
with a fondness for flattery which bespeaks a vitiated
mind. But when you are addressed by a
person of real merit, who is worthy your esteem,
and may justly demand your respect, let him be
treated with honor, frankness, and sincerity. It
is the part of a prude, to affect a shyness, reserve,
and indifference, foreign to the heart.
Innocence and virtue will rise superior to such
little arts, and indulge no wish which needs
disguise.

“Still more unworthy are the insidious and
deluding wiles of the coquette. How disgusting
must this character appear to persons of sentiment
and integrity! how unbecoming the delicacy
and dignity of an uncorrupted female!

“As you are young and inexperienced, your
affections may possibly be involuntarily engaged,
where prudence and duty forbid a connexion.
Beware, then, how you admit the passion of love.
In young minds, it is of all others the most uncontrollable.
When fancy takes the reins, it
compels its blinded votary to sacrifice reason,
discretion and conscience to its impetuous dictates.
But a passion of this origin tends not to
substantial and durable happiness. To secure

this, it must be quite of another kind, enkindled
by esteem, founded on merit, strengthened by
congenial dispositions and corresponding virtues,
and terminating in the most pure and refined
affection.

“Never suffer your eyes to be charmed by the
mere exterior; nor delude yourselves with the
notion of unconquerable love. The eye, in this
respect, is often deceptious, and fills the imagination
with charms which have no reality. Nip,
in the bud, every particular liking, much more
all ideas of love, till called forth by unequivocal
tokens, as well as professions of sincere regard.
Even then, harbour them not without a thorough
knowledge of the temper, disposition, and circumstances
of your lover, the advice of your
friends; and, above all, the approbation of your
parents. Maturely weigh every consideration
for and against, and deliberately determine with
yourselves, what will be most conducive to your
welfare and felicity in life. Let a rational and
discreet plan of thinking and acting, regulate your
deportment, and render you deserving of the affection
you wish to insure. This you will find
far more conducive to your interest, than the
indulgence of that romantic passion, which a
blind and misguided fancy paints in such alluring
colours, to the thoughtless and inexperienced.

“Recollect the favourite air you so often
sing:

“I by no means undervalue that love which is
the noblest principle of the human mind; but
wish only to guard you against the influence of
an ill-placed and ungovernable passion, which is
improperly called by this name.

“A union, formed without a refined and generous
affection for its basis, must be devoid of
those tender endearments, reciprocal attentions,
and engaging sympathies, which are peculiarly
necessary to alleviate the cares, dispel the sorrows,
and soften the pains of life. The exercise
of that prudence and caution which I have
recommended, will lead you to a thorough
investigation of the character and views of the
man by whom you are addressed.

“Without good principles, both of religion and
morality, (for the latter cannot exist independent
of the former) you cannot safely rely, either
upon his fidelity or his affection. Good principles
are the foundation of a good life.

“If the fountain be pure, the streams which
issue from it will be of the same description.

“Next to this, an amiable temper is essentially
requisite. A proud, a passionate, a revengeful,
a malicious, or a jealous temper, will render
your lives uncomfortable, in spite of all the prudence
and fortitude you can exert.

“Beware, then, left, before marriage, love blind
your eyes to those defects, to a sight of which,
grief and disappointment may awaken you afterwards.
You are to consider marriage as a connexion
for life; as the nearest and dearest of
all human relations; as involving in it the happiness
or misery of all your days; and as
engaging you in a variety of cares and duties,
hitherto unknown. Act, therefore, with deliberation,
and resolve with caution: but, when
once you have come to a choice, behave with
undeviating rectitude and sincerity.

“Avarice is not commonly a ruling passion in
young persons of our sex. Yet some there are,
sordid enough to consider wealth as the chief
good, and to sacrifice every other object to a
splendid appearance. It often happens, that
these are miserably disappointed in their expectations
of happiness. They find, by dear-bought
experience, that external pomp is but a wretched
substitute for internal satisfaction.

“But I would not have outward circumstances
entirely overlooked. A proper regard should

always be had to a comfortable subsistence in
life. Nor can you be justified in suffering a blind
passion, under whatever pretext, to involve you in
those embarrassing distresses of want, which will
elude the remedies of love itself, and prove fatal
to the peace and happiness at which you aim.

“In this momentous affair, let the advice and
opinion of judicious friends have their just weight
in your minds. Discover, with candor and frankness,
the progress of your amour, so far as is necessary
to enable them to judge aright in the cause;
but never relate the love-tales of your suitor,
merely for your own, or any other person's
amusement. The tender themes, inspired by
love, may be pleasing to you; but, to an uninterested
person, must be insipid and disgusting, in
the extreme.

“Never boast of the number, nor of the professions
of your admirers. That betrays an
unsufferable vanity, and will render you perfectly
ridiculous in the estimation of observers. Besides,
it is a most ungenerous treatment of those
who may have entertained, and expressed a regard
for you. Whatever they have said upon this
subject, was doubtless in confidence, and you
ought to keep it sacred, as a secret you have no
right to divulge.

“If you disapprove the person, and reject his
suit, that will be sufficiently mortifying, without
adding the insult of exposing his overtures.

“Be very careful to distinguish real lovers from
mere gallants. Think not every man enamoured
with you, who is polite and attentive. You
have no right to suppose any man in love with
you, till he declares it in plain, unequivocal,
and decent terms.

“Never suffer, with impunity, your ear to be
wounded by indelicate expressions, double entendres,
and infinuating attempts to seduce you from
the path of rectitude. True love will not seek
to degrade its object, much less to undermine
that virtue which ought to be its basis and support.
Let no protestations induce you to believe
that person your friend, who would destroy your
dearest interests, and rob you of innocence and
peace. Give no heed to the language of seduction;
but repel the insidious arts of the libertine,
with the dignity and decision of insulted virtue.
This practice will raise you superior to the
wiles of deceivers, and render you invulnerable
by the specious flattery of the unprincipled and
debauched.

“Think not the libertine worthy of your company
and conversation, even as an acquaintance.

“That reformed rakes make the best husbands,”
is a common, and I am sorry to say, a too generally
received maxim. Yet I cannot conceive,
that any lady, who values, or properly considers
her own happiness, will venture on the dangerous
experiment. The term reformed can, in my

opinion, have very little weight; since those,
whose principles are vitiated, and whose minds
are debased by a course of debauchery and excess,
seldom change their pursuits, till necessity, or
interest requires it; and, however circumstances
may alter or restrain their conduct, very little
dependence can be placed on men whose disposition
is still the same, but only prevented from
indulgence by prudential motives. As a rake is
most conversant with the dissolute and abandoned
of both sexes, he doubtless forms his opinion of
others by the standard to which he has been
accustomed, and therefore supposes all women
of the same description. Having been hackneyed
in the arts of the baser sort, he cannot form an
idea, that any are in reality superior to them.
This renders him habitually jealous, peevish, and
tyrannical. Even if his vicious inclinations be
changed, his having passed his best days in
vice and folly, renders him a very unsuitable
companion for a person of delicacy and resinement.

“But whatever inducements some ladies may
have to risk themselves with those who have
the reputation of being reformed, it is truly surprising
that any should be so inconsiderate as to
unite with such as are still prosessed libertines.
What hopes of happiness can be formed with
men of this character?

“Vice and virtue can never assimilate; and
hearts divided by them can never coalesce. The
former is the parent of discord, disease, and death;
the latter, of harmony, health, and peace. A
house divided against itself cannot stand; much
less can domestic selicity subsist between such
contrasted dispositions.

“But however negligent or mistaken many
women of real merit may be, relative to their
own interest, I cannot but wish they would pay
some regard to the honor and dignity of their
sex. Custom only has rendered vice more odious
in a woman than in a man. And shall we
give our sanction to a custom, so unjust and destructive
in its operation; a custom which invites
and encourages the enemies of society to
seek our ruin? Were those who glory in the
seduction of innocence, to meet with the contempt
they deserve, and to be pointedly neglected
by every female of virtue, they would be
ashamed of their evil practices, and impelled to
relinquish their injurious designs.

“But while they are received and caressed in
the best companies, they find restraint altogether
needless; and their being men of spirit and gallantry
(as they style themselves) is rather a recommendation
than a reproach!

“I cannot help blushing with indignation,
when I see a lady of sense and character gallanted

and entertained by a man who ought to
be banished society, for having ruined the peace
of families, and blasted the reputation of many,
who, but for him, might have been useful and
happy in the world; but who, by his insidious
arts, are plunged into remediless insignificance,
disgrace, and misery.”

Saturday, P. M.
RELIGION.

“Having given you my sentiments on
a variety of subjects which demand your particular
attention, I come now to the closing and
most important theme; and that is Religion.
The virtuous education which you have received,
and the good principles which have been instilled
into your minds from infancy, will render the
enforcement of Christian precepts and duties a
pleasing lesson.

“Religion is to be considered as an essential
and durable object; not as the embellishment of
a day; but an acquisition which shall endure and
increase through the endless ages of eternity.

“Lay the foundation of it in youth, and it
will not forsake you in advanced age; but furnish
you with an adequate substitute for the transient
pleasures which will then desert you; and
prove a source of rational and resined delight; a
refuge from the disappointments and corroding
cares of life, and from the depressions of adverse
events. “Remember now your Creator, in the
days of your youth, while the evil days come not,

nor the years draw nigh, when you shall say, we
have no pleasure in them.” If you wish for
permanent happiness, cultivate the divine favour
as your highest enjoyment in life, and your safest
retreat when death shall approach you.

“That even the young are not exempt from
the arrest of this universal conqueror, the tombstone
of Amelia will tell you. Youth, beauty,
health and fortune, strewed the path of life with
flowers, and left her no wish ungratified. Love,
with its gentlest and purest flame, animated her
heart, and was equally returned by Julius.
Their passion was approved by their parents and
friends; the day was fixed, and preparations
were making for the celebration of their nuptials.
At this period, Amelia was attacked by a
violent cold, which, seating on her lungs, baffled
the skill of the most eminent physicians, and terminated
in a confirmed hectic. She perceived
her disorder to be incurable, and with inexpressible
regret and concern anticipated her approaching
dissolution. She had enjoyed life too highly
to think much of death; yet die she must!
“Oh,” said she, “that I had prepared, while in
health and at ease, for this awful event! Then
should I not be subjected to the keenest distress of
mind, in addition to the most painful infirmities
of body! Then should I be able to look forward
with hope, and to find relief in the consoling expectation
of being united, beyond the grave,

with those dear and beloved connexions, which
I must soon leave behind! Let my companions
and acquaintance learn from me the important
lesson of improving their time to the best of
purposes; of acting at once as becomes mortal
and immortal creatures!”

“Hear, my dear pupils, the soleman admonition,
and be ye also ready!

“Too many, especially of the young and gay,
seem more anxious to live in pleasure, than to
answer the end of their being by the cultivation
of that piety and virtue which will render them
good members of society, useful to their friends
and associates, and partakers of that heart-felt
satisfaction which results from a conscience void
of offence both towards God and man.

“This, however, is an egregious mistake; for
in many situations, piety and virtue are our only
source of consolation; and in all, they are peculiarly
friendly to our happiness.

“Do you exult in beauty, and the pride of
external charms? Turn your eyes, for a moment,
on the miserable Flirtilla.[1] Like her, your features
and complexion may be impaired by disease:
and where then will you find a refuge
from mortification and discontent, if destitute of
those ennobling endowments which can raise you
superior to the transient graces of a fair form;
if unadorned by that substantial beauty of mind

which can not only ensure respect from those
around you, but inspire you with resignation to
the divine will, and a patient acquiescence in the
most painful allotments of a holy Providence?
Does wealth await your command, and grandeur
with its fascinating appendages beguile your
fleeting moments? Recollect, that riches often
make themselves wings and fly away. A single
instance of mismanagement; a consuming fire,
with various other misfortunes which no human
prudence can foresee or prevent, may strip you
of this dependence; and, unless you have other
grounds of comfort than earth can boast, reduce
you to the most insupportable wretchedness and
despair. Are you surrounded by friends, and
happy in the society of those who are near and
dear to you? Soon may they be wrested from
your fond embrace, and consigned to the mansions
of the dead!

“Whence, then, will you derive support, if
unacquainted with that divine Friend, who will
never fail nor forsake you; who is the same
yesterday, to-day, and forever?

“Health and youth, my dear girls, are the
seasons for improvement. Now you may lay up
a treasure which neither sickness nor adversity
can impair.

“But the hour of distress is not the only time,
in which religion will be advantageous to you.
Even in prosperity, it will prove the best solace,

and the highest ornament of your lives. What
can be more dignified, respectable, and lovely,
than the Christian character? The habitual
practice of those duties which the gospel inculcates
will give lustre to your beauty and durability
to your charms. By correcting your passions,
it will improve your joys, endear you to
your friends and connexions, and render you
contented, happy, and useful in every stage and
condition of life.

Religion will not deprive you of temporal enjoyments;
it will heighten and increase them.
It will not depress, but exhilarate your spirits.
For it consists not in a gloomy, misanthropic
temper, declining the social and innocent delights
of life; but prepares the mind to partake
with satisfaction of every pleasure which reason
approves, and which can yield serenity and peace
in the review. Be not ashamed then of appearing
religious, and of rising by that mean
above the vain, unthinking crowd.

“Let not the idle jests of heedless and unprincipled
companions deter you from a stedfast
adherence to the path of truth and righteousness.
“Follow not the multitude to do evil.” Never
conform to fashion, even though it claim the
patronage of politeness, so far as to countenance
irreligion in any of its modifications.

“Jesting upon sacred subjects, ridiculing the
professors of Christianity, light and irreverent

conduct upon solemn occasions, ought to be cautiously
avoided and decidedly condemned. Too
many girls are so extremely thoughtless as to
carry the levity of their manners even to the
sanctuary; and by whispering, winking, tittering,
and other indecent actions, display their folly
to their own disgrace, and to the great disgust
of all judicious and sober people. Such
behaviour is not only offensive to the Deity, but
insulting to all who would worship him free from
interruption. It is not only an indignity offered to
religion, but a flagrant breach of the rules of good
breeding. Content not yourselves, therefore,
with a bare attendance on the institutions of religion;
but conduct with propriety, decorum,
and seriousness, while engaged in the solemn service.
Bear in mind, that you assemble with a
professed purpose of paying homage to the Supreme;
and consider yourselves as in his immediate
presence!

“The offices of devotion demand your attention
in private, as well as in public.

“Accustom yourselves, therefore, to stated
periods of retirement for meditation and prayer;
and adopt every other mean which is calculated
to keep alive in your minds a due sense of
your dependence and obligations, and to inspire
you with that uniform love to God and
benevolence to the human kind, which will prove
your greatest glory here, as well as your crown
of rejoicing hereafter.”

THE hour of departure having arrived, on
Monday morning, Mrs. Williams assembled with
her pupils; when the regret, visibly depicted on
every countenance, was variously expressed. The
tear of grateful regard stole silently down the
bloomy cheeks of some: others betrayed their
sensibility by audible sobs, which they could not
repress and all united in testifying the sense
they entertained of the advantages they had received
from Mrs. Williams's tuition, the happiness
they had enjoyed in each other's society, and
their determination to remember her counsels,
cultivate continued friendship among themselves,
and endeavour to be worthy of her's.

Mrs. Williams then took an affectionate leave
of each one, and left them with her daughters.
The most cordial good wishes were mutually interchanged,
till their carriages received and separated
them.

The friendship and unity thus commenced and
confirmed, were never obliterated. They always
cherished the most sincere affection for their Preceptress,
and each other; which they displayed in
an unreserved and social correspondence, both
personal and epistolary. The residence of Mrs.
Williams they denominated Harmony-Grove,
which it ever after retained, and by which it is
designated in the following selection of their
letters.